Clone Wars: The Grunts
by darthritter86
Summary: The Clone Wars rage and survival seems to be the only hope of the Grand Army of the Republic. A squad of clone paratroopers struggles with planet after planet of fighting as the clone-hating Jedi General Rahm Kota pushes on. Win or Die the fight continues
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If I were George Lucas, I wouldn't be posting things on Fanfiction. So, thus, I don't own Star Wars or the creative works of Lucasarts, Lucasfilms, etc. Don't sue me, please!

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_Originally, Gama Squad was the third reserved combat team of the 1st Airborne Company, 28th Parachute Infantry Regiment...but as the war went on, the Grunts became the front-line fighters of every major clone paratrooper offensive from Geonosis, to Jabiim, to the Outer Rim Sieges. We were folded into almost every facet of our regiment and performed almost every odd job that an army had to do. Hell, we even handled the mail for the troops!!_

_Don't ask me who a clone could possibly get mail from._

_I was assigned to the Grunts a good two years after the Battle of Kamino, after I "volunteered" for Jump School and earned my wings. At the time, Gama Squad was stationed with the 8th Airborne on Kothlis in the Bothan Sector, some twelve klicks from the largest Bothan colony in the system. That didn't stop the Seperatist aligned Sanyassan forces from attacking. The 8th Airborne "Raiders" Company had it's hands full with just keeping the Sanies back beyond the treeline, giving the Grunts and rest of the combat teams the luxury of hunting the monkey-faces down on isolated patrols._

_It was just my luck that the Sanies had planned a push on the very day I arrived... ..._

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Knifing through the highest reaches of Kothlis, a white winged object cut steadily across the planet's blue skies. A Republic gunship, dropping out of the high atmosphere in a wide arc to it's drop point, still a thirty minutes away. The LAAT's front section glowed bright red as flames stretch down the length of the ship, creating a short tail of fire behind the craft. And did it ever shake! Rocketing back and forth, up and down, making the gunship blur out of focus into much more ambiguous shape.

The constant vibrations had caused the crates of ammunition and the odd couple of clones to buckle in their place. Hanging on to the overhead safety bar with dead-man's grip, Carthar struggled to keep his thoughts straight as he watch the flames lick pass the viewport. The young trooper frowned at the site from under his special 'HALO' helmet and turned to the cockpit... ...

"Shouldn't we've gotten through atmo' by now?" Carthar called over to the clone pilot through his built-in comlink.

"We'd get a fierfek load of A-A any lower, kid!" The pilot shouted back over the com, "Ta' Sanies have half this continent covered in rockets and flack-throwers, ta' fierfek peedunkee!!"

The trooper shifted his body and turned back the viewport, slightly unsettled by the pilot's cursing. Swearing was something of a touchy point for Carthar, even in Huttese. Where most of the clones back on Kamino took on to it like air and used it almost as much, Carthar liked to stay straight-laced. Nope. Just happy thoughts and 'Yes, sirs' for this paratrooper, no vice this clone. Besides...he's like 10-years-old...despite what his manual says. As Carthar continued to dump the undesired Huttese out of mind, he took glance back to the rear of gunship that lasted less then a second. It wasn't the first or even third glance, but the twenty-seventh glance back at the other occupant of LAAT. An ARC commando riding in the simple troop transport wasn't a common affair, as far as the young clone was aware of.

Lounging atop several boxed ammo canisters, the elite clone warrior looked perfectly at ease in the shaking gunship as he casusally read from a datapad in one hand, with his helmet sitting over his erect knee. Not just any helmet, mind you...but a HALO helmet. That had caught Carthar off the moment the ARC stepped onto the transport. Everything else about the clone screamed commando to the young trooper, from the pauldron around his shoulders to the kama hanging off his thighs. However the HALO was particular to clone paratroopers only. It wasn't just specialize jumping equipment piece, but a mark of honor for all who got their wings from the Advance Clone Parachuting Combat Training, or more widely know as 'Jump School', after five successful jumps. With another glance, Cathar had once again confirmed the clone's ARC nature, by that of his WESTAR-M5 blaster set across the clone's knapsack. Only special forces commandos carried them, with anyone else using the rifle model being restricted.

Meaning a trooper would get shot for shooting a WESTAR.

Carthar's glance soon changed into a stare, as the rookie clone noticed a few extra qualities to the ARC's HALO helmet. It's paint scheme matched the elite's armor, thick lines of dark blue on a white back-drop, and a long attachment sticking straight up. A rangefinder...something purely ARC in the Republic's armed forces, and something purely Mandalorian...if GAR manual proofed reliant.

"What do you think your doing, clone?" Carthar jumped as he frantically turned back to the viewport. The elite warrior speaking into his comlink, his lips next to the rebreather of his under-turned helmet as he held it by the rim, "A LAAT gunship skin can't stand over fifty minutes of heat at this intensity. It's been forty-eight..." The young trooper blinked, twice, under his HALO as the ARC's comment sloshed around in his mind.

_... ...ooo-kay... ...?_

"Hey, this is my larty, and I know how to fly the fiefekarking thing!!" Screeched the clone pilot's voice over the com, "You want ta' stick, Sleemo? Be my guest!!"

"That's **Sergeant** Sleemo to you, pilot." The commando responded sternly, "And it's a fact. Standard reentry heat is 1650 degree Celsius, well within skin tolerances. But when contract that with continued skimming of the atmosphere, durasteel starts to weaken and the LAAT's panels become unstable. After fifty minutes, we'll lose those panels and will burn up-"

"I know my larty, _Sergent_. And I know her limits." Carthar had finally caught on that he was third wheel in this argument, as the pilot went on, "All you ARC commandos are hot-shots, super-soldiers, know-it-alls. You don't know poodoo worth!! Flying a gunship is about _feeling_." The elite sergeant didn't seem to enjoy the clone pilots reply as his voice dropped down to a more menacing, dead-serious tone... ...

"Pilot... When I say that this boat will burn up after the fifth minute, I mean and know this boat will burn up after the minute... ..."

The clone in cockpit was silent for a moment, eyes still locked out the forward canopy. Then, without saying a word, the pilot eased LAAT down to a lower altitude and below their fiery path. The gunship's rocketing immediately decreased to small hiccups, as Carthar exhaled the breath he had not known he held. Lessening his grip on the safety bar, the young trooper watch the flames outside the viewport disappear as blue skies and puffy white clouds took it's place.

"Did I give you a start' there, kid?" Carthar twisted back to the ARC in the back of the transport as the elite clone smirked back at him. The corner of the trooper's eye flashed red, as the words 'Secure Channel' flashed across Carthar's HUD. The commando wanted a private conversation, "I didn't mean to scare the _osik_ out of ya'. It's just these flyboy clones, you know."

"Oh-um...no, sir. And, yes sir, I do know... ..." The young trooper thumbed over the commando's use of '_osik_', instead of normal cussing that usually graced such a comment. More importantly it was Mandalorian speak, or at least sound like it. The word had an odd settling effect on the clone paratrooper...something Carthar wouldn't have expected from a profanity.

"What's your name, trooper?" The elite asked as he smile. Every tiny scars around the clone's cheeks seem to smile with him.

"Sir!" Carthar stiffen himself and throw his right hand up to his HALO's temple, "My registry number is CT-2249, si-... um..."

The ARC's quick change from beaming to frowning, pushed Carthar off step. The standard drilled presentation from basics didn't appear to be the commando's desired response. The clone gathered himself and tried again, "Sir. I'm Private _Ka'rta_, sir."

The elite clone ceased his frown and gave a slight nod to the young trooper. The choice of the Mandalorian pronunciation of Carthar's name, instead of the Basic, had seemed to appease the ARC, which was good because the trooper didn't **WHAT** he was doing. This was nothing like rags back on Kamino.

"Sergeant _Ramikadu_, formally of the Adance Recon Commandos. At ease, Private." The commando said in reply, leaning back to rest on his arm. Carthar dropped his salute as the sergeant continuing to talk into his helmet lying on his chest, "So, _Ka'rta_... That's a good name."

"Is it, sir?"

"Yeah, it means 'heart'. Heart of a warrior, heart of a people. I'd wrestle a Wookiee to have to have a squad _vod_ with _ka'rta_ as his name."

"Really, sir... I'm pretty sure that my instructors gave it to me out of chance... ..."

"Ha... Well, a Jedi once told me that there isn't such a think as 'chance'. Everything happens for a reason, or some _di'kutla_ saying like that."

Carthar nodded in coy fashion, feeling insufficient of such a high praise. This was a ARC commando, the pride of the Republic's Grand Army, and he was envious some ordinary clone's name? Not just title envy, though. The elite coveted the young trooper as a member of his squad, something Carthar was sure only the best would get to be. It seemed to be much more likely that the commando was just taunting him, have a laugh on the "shinie" clone expense. However... the trooper did get a level of excitement and preening, gungho sense of duty to the Chancellor and Senate. Carthar smirked under his HALO helmet, imagine his own daring feats and war-story victories yet to happen.

Before long the gunship was traveling over the Bothan capital city, Tal'cara, making it's way to the eastern outskirts, where the 8th Airborne was stationed. Cathar watched through the viewport as the city streets and buildings melted away into coves of palm and fruit trees, with a occasional dirt road. In the distance a great hump appeared, bare of anything but the shortest flora, and with a hefty square platform placed atop it's crest. The square's edges flashed with evenly placed lights, red and green, indicating a good-to-land status.

With final ramble of the deck plates, the LAAT had stopped and it's doors slid away to the sides. The young trooper stumbled out of the transport, walking off a few steps to let his legs reaffirm there natural pattern of movement. Two clones brushed past him, dressed in the more traditional "T-visor" kit and armor, moving onto the gunship. They quickly went to work on the ammo crates, pulling them down and piling them back up on the platform. The sergeant barely made it off the crates with his gear under arm before the trooper pair had finished.

A howling shrill snapped the paratrooper's attention to his right, across to the thicket beyond the platform. The dark reaches of the jungle seemed to project hoots and shrieks of every sort, a little intimidating to a clone from a water world city. Though, it wasn't as intimidating as giant barrel of the artillery piece between the platform and the jungle. It was huge! The gun, along with it's brothers about the hill, was the only thing higher than the landing platform.

Soon the LAAT was hover up, again, then sliced forward and to the left to make a large arch around. Carthar watched the gunship fly off westward, no doubt back over the settlement and to the cruiser in orbit. The young trooper watched as the transport sail farther and farther away into the horizon until the ARC sergeant called over to him. Looking over to him, Carthar found _Ramikadu_ across the platform, waving his WESTAR around and to his stomach. Something of "Come on!" or "Get your butt following" type of gesture. The trooper dashed over the distance and followed the sergeant down a twist of scaffolding staircases, to the ground below.

From the base of the platform, Carthar truly took hold of the colossal nature of the artillery he saw from up above. They were **behemoths**. They seem more worthy as main guns on a battleship in space than shooting grunts in the mud. The insects around it (e.i. clone gunners) raced about, checking recoil-supports and targeting equipment as though the next battle was a minute away.

_It just might be, actually..._, The young trooper thought to himself.

"_Ka'rta_!" The sergeant shouted, pulling Carthar back into reality.

The trooper rushed after the ARC sergeant as he confidently took lead across the base grounds. _Ramikadu_ hadn't even stop to once to ask for direction, just keep pushing forward as though he know exactly were they need to go and where it was. It was a little unsettling for the young trooper since he was simply trusting the commando's decisions, without actually knowing who he was. The sergeant never lost step, though.

_Maybe he's just that confident. I think most would just call that stupidity, though..._

The two soon reached a small hill in what must have been the middle of the base. A four meters tall, four meters long wall stuck out across the side of the hill, made of single piece of a durasteel that shinned in the bright tropic sun. A lone door stood at the center, left open to the clones to enter without button or switch to operate. The ARC continued in, pass the doorway and into the hill, Carthar still following in his wake. The interior was perfectly hollowed out, lined with same durasteel construction as the outer wall. A few desks were scattered around the moderately sized room, with white-washed clones and a couple paratroopers buzzing about.

The ARC sergeant and Carthar stood, shoulder to shoulder, calmly wait for... something. The young trooper was at a lost. All his training said to find the commanding officer and get assigned squad and bunk, which the clone assumed the elite was trying to do. But there was not telling if the CO was here or across the base in the latrine. Carthar tense up, anyway, sucking in his stomach and removing his helmet in preparation for a superiors review. The instance his HALO's seals opened, a flood of hot and humid air poured into the young troopers face, nearly gagging him. The room was oven, period. After a minute of sweating bullets in the heat, a bare-faced clone in red marked armor walked up to the pair. The young trooper quickly recognized the symbol of the Senate and Republic, the Great Galactic Seal, set in red at the center of the clone's breastplate. It was a sign of the Chancellor's authority, and his... ...

"I'm the commander of this base, Captain Burrs." The captain's voice was more grizzled then most of the clone voices Cathar had heard before. Odd...it reminded the young trooper of used blast caps, rattling around in a empty rations can. Odd..., "I'll keep it blunt for your ease, troopers. We're at high alert, 24/7, so keep your boots stripped on. There's no air support, space or planetside, and no Jedi. We're short on bodies, so there's plenty of bunk-space and plenty of work. I'm still looking for clones and I'll take what I can get...even flat-tops like you." Cathar blink at the use of 'flat-top', a common phrase in the first generation of Kamino clones. It referred to the hairstyle choices the Kaminoans made before and after Jango Fett left the program. With Fett, the standard cut was closer to the scalp to create a round looking head. With Fett gone the Kaminoans decided on a more rigid, 'flat' style. The term to the older generation mean that a clone was too lazy to train and too hyper to listen to orders...however that worked. It was akin to a ethic epithet in the civilian world, though more tolerated, "I'm not taskmaster" The captain continued, "but when I'm given a job, I get it done. My job and your job is to knock the Sanyassans off this rock and back to the hole they'd crawled from. So...Private..."

The young trooper marched on step up and placed saluting hand to temple, then back to his side of his hip in a single motion, "Sir!" He called out. Burrs seem to pause for a moment, then raise his right hand up at his side and waved his fingers. A paratrooper strode up behind the captain and placed a datapad into his waiting palm.

"Right..." The CO began, checking over the pad, "...Private CT-2249, correct. I'm putting you on Lieutenant Czar's platoon, in Gamma squad. I hate to throw a shinie, with no experience, on the front lines. But, we are under manned and that's were we need troops."

"Sir!" Saluting again, Carthar twisted about and marched out the door.

"As for you, Sergeant-" Burrs announced to the ARC, still review his datapad. A curious expression washed over the captain's face as one of his brow shot up at, eyes moving across the pad, "Sergeant...Ram-ee-ka...umm...Rameekadou? Ram-ye-kadou..."

"The Jedi and other Basic user like to shorten it to Ram, sir."

"Oohh...good then." Captain Burrs nodded as he folded his arms behind his back. If the elite wasn't mistaken, he thought he saw the CO blush a little, "Well Sergeant Ram, it seems your something of a tiny mystery to us."

"I'm...sorry, sir?" Ram wasn't quiet sure where the captain was going.

"You have to understand, I'm just a simple para-infantry officer. I can't get records on clones that don't exist...like former commando lieutenant. With no records, I don't know what to do with you. I don't know if your proficient at leading troopers into battle or washing trays at chow time."

"Ha...I can take my word, captain, I can lead and fight just as fine-" The elite sergeant chuckled, but Burrs cut him off... ...

"No, I can't. You see, I don't know **why** a lieutenant like you was dropped down to sergeant and placed in a infantry company." Sergeant Ram frowned as the captain continued, "Maybe you slept with Senator's daughter...who knows. I sure don't."

"I choose the demotion-"

"That's a little hard to swallo-"

"I choose the demotion, but not the assignment!" The commando shouted over the CO. The whole room froze to the spot, all halted to stare at the elite clone. Burrs studied the commando carefully and waited. However, Ram just ended his outburst with a single word, "... sir."

"... ... I believe you, Sergeant." The captain replied, fist resting on his hips, "I'll tell you what...I'll give you your own squad. Yours to choose. Maybe then I can see if your mouth is where your money's at. We always have room in the kitchen detail, else wise..."

"Thank you, sir..." A thought crossed the sergeants mind that made him smile, "...I think I know a squad, sir."

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Within the dark underground of a planet not too far away, a series long concrete corridors rang with echoing footsteps. The dank air and sharply angled walls doubled the lone walker's boot drops, as though a whole platoon was clamoring down the hall. After a few more trots, the echoing walker reached the needed destination, a large square chamber, dimly lit, with flashing equipment and motley soldiers scattered about it. Men and women, from a rainbow of species, all dressed in dark blue fatigues, preformed a variety of tasks on weapons and console inputs. All the while, a group of grizzled soldiers gathered around a table as a dark haired human male hunched over the surfaced and directed his finger across a placed map.

"Excuse me, General Kota." A feminine voice proclaimed, catching the attention of the human. The man's black bun from back his skull, bobbed from side to side as the general deliberated turning to meet his caller. Finally duty over came annoyance and the Senior Jedi General, Master Rahm Kota, twisted about with the brown robe around his shoulders flowing about him as he turned under his armor.

"Major Tekshar. How **good** it is to see you..." The Jedi related in a mock of cheer. The petite female Kuati, dressed in similar navy fatigues as the soldiers, snickered at Kota's poor sarcasm and pulled a datapad from the confines of her belt pouch.

"A transmission from Command, sir." The major said and hand her commander the pad, "It's a priority one, special ' Masters' message."

Kota blinked at the woman, slightly taken aback, and gazed down at the pad in his hands. There it was, flashing in red, the words "Priority: #1" with second line spelled in large letters: "MASTERS". It was a rare for Jedi to see, even the commander of all Republic military activity in the Bothan system. The message required more than just the normal thumb print or voice command to decode it, but a unique function in the datapad that needed Force trick, of such, to activate. Only a general's senior office held the essential datapad and only Jedi Masters knew the trick. Needless to say, it wasn't too practical and thus not often used. Reaching out with his feelings, Kota activated the device and the message sprawled into rolling lines of text. The general gasped... ...

"...a Separatist invasion fleet!!" Silence fell as whole room turned and stared, agape, at General Kota. The Jedi, recognizing his exclamation's effect, read the message aloud, "Military investigations have uncovered a CIS plot to seize control of Bothan Space in a single, all encompassing attack. The Sanyassan opposition will launch a inter-sector push on multiple planetside front in congruence with a Separatist invasion fleet under the General Grievous, as he attacks and hold the Both system... ..."

"Impossible!" Bellowed a Bothan at the table, his fur covered figures stretched out in a mixture of surprise and outrage. The Mon Calamari female next to him was much more calm with her words, much more dire.

"With Republic and Bothan defenses spread across the sector, Grievous will be able to Blitzkrieg right into Both." The tension in the room thicken with amphibious officer's comment, along with her confidence in the prediction. Kota merely ignored it and continued reading... ...

"...A task force of Venator cruisers commanded by General Skywalker has been sent to blockade Bothawui and system from the Separatist push. All units in the sector should prepare for incoming armor/infantry attacks. Suspected operations are believed to initiate around 20:15, Galactic City time." Taking a second to calculate the difference in time zones and stared at gauntlet mounted chrono. The Jedi looked up, "That's three hours from now, which gives us little time to do much of anything. *Sigh*" The general touched his hand to his forehead as it pulsated and turned to his rest of his officers at the table.

"This is outrageous!" The Bothan again shouted out, pounding his fist to the table, "Our spy network has operatives across the galaxy and is totally infallible. I can not believe that such a operations could be set in place and Military Intelligence doesn't know about it."

"Perhaps that makes it all the more likely..." The amphibious officer countered, "This sector's arrogance of it's 'Spynet' would make it utterly vulnerable to forces who can bypass such a measure. A great tactician like Grievous could have deceive our Bothan allies."

"Weather or not Separatists truly invade matter's little." Kota announced, "This attack would stretch our forces thin across the sector, the Sanie push alone!" Glancing at the Both native lieutenant, the general commanded, "Contact all Bothan Combat Elements, have them make accordances with local Republic forces."

"General!" The furry alien replied with a frown, but saluted and rushed off down the corridor.

"Captain!" General Kota, now moving on to the Mon Calamari, "Get hold of our space forces and any Republic ship near by. I have feeling that the Sanie Privateers will make sudden reappearance at our flanks."

"Aye, aye, sir!!" Then the amphibious captain was gone.

"Tekshar" The Jedi General called to his officer as he stepped past her, motioning to follow. The two glided down the concrete halls, the major staying on Kota's left, as the Jedi continue to speak without his commanding tone, "We should plan for the worst...if Bothawui does fall... ..."

"Sir, don't you think General Skywalker can pull this off?"

"Oh...Skywalker is a fiery commander, with his share of victories. But he lacks discipline, Master Kenobi even says this. The boy's hot head will eventually burn him alive."

Major Tekshar eyed the general, finding his words somewhat ironic. Not too long ago, the ever calm Jedi Master made a few comments about GAR after a battle on Duro that anyone else would have hesitated to say. Soon after, the news was flooded with headlines like, "Jedi Hates New Clone Army" and "Republic General Claims Clones for Lost". The Jedi Council didn't take Kota's new limelight on the Order too kindly, and the Jedi Master got the thick of their displeasure. The major knew, like many, that one as military commander should never have an opinion in front of the press.

"Sir, if I may..." Tekshar put forth, but went head without waiting for the general's say, "I think the Jedi Council has weighted Skywalker's abilities and still found him the best choice in short time they had. He has come up against the cyborg and came out ahead, unlike many other commanders and Jedi."

"Even if the 'Boy General' was the military generous everyone says he is, Grievous attentions are focused purely on Bothawui. If that mechanical horror gets to Both before the task force, it will all be for nothing."

"And if Skywalker's cruisers launched the minute priority message was send..." The major, continuing Kota's thoughts, "that means that they only have a few, slim hours to beat the Separatist to the system."

"What a fun prospect this message has brought. Thank you _so_ much for sharing it with me, Major."

"It's my job, sir..." The senior officer replied, flatly. Kota snicker for a moment...but then suddenly stop in his tracks. When Tekshar noticed the general's absent footsteps, she looked back to she the old Jedi staring at the ground with his arms folded in front of him, "Sir??"

"...Tekshar...what do I hate more than anything before or during a battle..."

"Ha...seeing me...sir..." The major gave a sheepish smile, slightly embarrassed by the admission.

"Why"

"Because the only time I come to you duty those times is with 'annoying' tasks, as you call it, sir. Approving battlefield decisions, sorting out reinforcement distributions, making tactics on completely different fronts..."

"Yes. Such tasks get in the away of a commander's fighting and strategy making." Secretly, Tekshar thought 'a child's fun and games' was more accurate wording of how the general viewed war, "You shouldn't feel bad about it, Major. Every military leader has his 'Major Tekshar', even Grievous. That's what I'm going to use to our advantage!"

"Sir...what are you planning?" The major almost didn't want to know.

"The Republic STRIKES!!"

"There's no way we can launch an attack against the Sanyassans, sir. We're-"

"Don't be so small minded, Tekshar." The Jedi General retorted quickly, "We have the Republic's entire war front to use as our canvas of mayhem."

"Where, sir?" The female office shook her head in disbelief at Kota's so called 'plan'.

"Ryloth, Saleucami, Mygeeto, it doesn't matter. As long as we can surprise the Separatists on those fronts!" The general held his clenched fist in the air, as though he had the hold over the entire CIS forces under the power of the Force, "Imagine how many Major Tekshars that Grievous will get after that. How many cries for help for the _great tactician _will fly through space, just to pester the cyborg of a general. He'll be overrun...and Skywalker might just get his task force in place..."

Tekshar blinked, twice, too amazed to speak. It was either the most brilliant plan she had ever heard, or the most psychotic. But, if it worked, it would destroy the Separatist invasion fleet and possible Grievous along with it. It was a blazing move that Kota was know for, and they worked...most of the time.

"Major, we have work to do." The Jedi marched foreword and Tekshar speeded to after him, "I need you to show me how to send a 'Masters' encoded message to the Council... ..."

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Author's Note: Next chapter's going to definitely going to have some action and such. Hopefully someone wants to read another chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: Ok this is a little longer chapter. You might like it, you might hate it, but definitely place a review or comment about. It helps.

Disclaimer: I shaved my beard off some time ago, and I don't have gray hair!! I'm not George Lucas, so I don't own Star Wars. Neither am I Lucasfilms or Lucasarts. Are you blind or what??

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Soon after Carthar left the base's tiny bunker hill, the young trooper wondering around to get a feel for the place. The sky was getting dark, fast, as sun was moving into it's twilight position above the horizon. The clone was shocked, but wasn't surpraised. Carthar had gotten a small sitrep on Kothlis on the cruiser came on, _Democracy's Star_, before he was dropped off and the ship left system. Like many of the planet's obriting Koth'lar, the host star, Kothlis had an accelerated rotation. Thirteen hour day and four hours for night. Which left the trooper walking about in the fading light... ...lost... ...

It was exactly easiest thing to do. Standard fire support base or FB configuration followed like religious dogma, no matter it was layout in the on a forest planet or a ice glacier. Carthar had his brains bashed in with the arrangement of the training FB at Su Des' cloning facility, back on Kamino, so the young trooper was a little embarrassed at this.

_It's like getting lost in the womb_, the clone silently scorned to himself, _...well...growth tube, but still I'm an idiot._

Truthfully, though, Carthar was probably not the one to be blamed. The paratrooper was trod through the second barracks he was directed to, by the fourth clone base personnel he talked with, who was suggested by the third squad Carthar had asked...so, yeah. The building was empty, however, in sheer contrast to the worker clone's description of being "packed" with trooper squads. Apparently, Gamma Squad was the enigma of 8th company. The young trooper sighed heavily, itching the back of his head as he held his HALO against his hip.

"Clone! Stand-to!!" Carthar quickly popped up to attention at the call of unseen commander, imitating a steel beam in it's rigidness.

"Excuse me, sir!" The young trooper barked in apologetically, "I was having a problem find my squad, sir."

"Ha ha ha! Enough the sir fodder, kid!"

A figure draped in a off-white set of armor pass from around Carthar, folding his arms in front of him and grinning away. A follow clone greeted the young trooper with a continued grin and a nod. His salt and pepper hair caught Carthar by surprised, as he blinked.

"What is it with shinies and making trouble..." The clone said as he shook his head, "So what squad has luckin' out with getting you, huh?"

"Gamma Squad, sir."

"Grunts, huh. Wow...what did you do the captain to you thrown with them??" The gray haired clone's smirk morphed into a frown, "Well, come with me. It's better to get these things over with fast than slow."

The young trooper's face sunk as he blinked twice. Though before he could asked the other trooper to elaborate, the gray haired clone turned and walked away. Carthar sped after him, trusting that the trooper would take him to where he need to be.

"Did you call be sir again, back there?" The leading clone asked over his shoulder as two walked out of the barracks, "Well, stop it. I'm just a trooper like you, a mud kicking medic. You'll call be Uncle."

"Uncle?"

"You've noticed the hair right?" Carthar opened his mouth, as though to speak, but quickly closed it again as he thought better. Uncle went on, "Well I'm an old Bantha of a' paratrooper in this company. I've seen action with Captain Burrs since Geonosis, and I keep planning on see more." The young trooper gave a babyish nod as he recalled how enhanced aging in clones had varied, "So you can guess how it started. One clone called me brother, another then joked I looked too old to be any clone's brother, so I must be his uncle. The just stuck after that. I suppose it's appropriate for one of the longest standing troopers around."

The pair where coming close to crossing the base when the sun finally dropped below the treetop horizon, sending the FB into darkness. A series of pole mounted glowlamps burst to life around the base and atop the raised landing pad. The cool night air chilled Carthar's skull, with the remnant of sweat from burning bunker's experience doubling the effect. It was one of the things that bugged the young trooper, the heated office... ...

"Say...um...Uncle?" The gray haired clone turned his head to the back and to the side, indicating his awareness to the other trooper, "About the captain's office... ..."

"You mean that the spot in hell he puts his desk!" Uncle chuckled, "I asked around about that once. He seems to despise reprocessed air."

"WHAT?! Bu-But he-"

"Yeah, yeah...I know. Born in that sterilized laboratory they call a city, we should all think that processed air is the best thing. But Burrs just hates breathing the stuff. He says that it smells and taste like fodder. Can't imagine what he does on spaceflights."

Carthar thumbed over the older clone's words as Uncle continued the lead, heading toward the outer fringes of the base. A defensive perimeter trench came into view, with a E-Web heavy repeating blaster at the edge, pointing out into the jungle growth from behind the sandbag wall. Eight or so clone paratroopers up and around the trench with their HALO helmets on as they clean and prepared their weapons, a few glanced through datapads. They were just as Carthar had envisioned his squad...always at the ready, in clean yet battle-grim-covered armor. One the troopers looked over to the two come clones and jumped out of the defensive trench, marching up to them... ...

"Who's your shadow, Uncle?" The trooper inquired through his HALO's speaker. Carthar quickly tensed up, saluting, and answered before the gray haired clone could.

"Sir! Private _Ka'rta_, CT-2249, reporting for duty, sir!!" The paratrooper tiled his head back, placing his hands on his hips.

"...Ka-rata...??"

"Sarge, he was assigned to Gamma Squad." Uncle explained to the apparent clone sergeant.

"Ah, yes. I heard they need replacements." Carthar blinked in confusion as the sergeant pointed back into the center of the FB, "I think they were placed on temporary Quartermaster duty."

"Thanks, Sarge."

Uncle tugged on the young trooper's arm, pulling Carthar along to the where the clone sergeant indicated. Couple dozen meters into the base, the two clones came upon a stack of crates piled next to a flimsy made structure of sheet metal, not much bigger than a few troopers standing shoulder to shoulder. Right outside the door of the tiny building was a group of clones gathered around a glowlamp on sitting the ground as they laughed and gave each little shoves. Their armor was stained with dry mud and almost all of them were bare-headed. Carthar brow wrinkled up as his expression sunk with each closing step, deeper and deeper.

_What happened to my battle hardened squad?!_ The young trooper thought to quietly.

"Hey! Downs!!" Uncle shouted over to the group as the pair neared.

"Look, boys!" Bellowed one of clones, "It's Downs favorite estrange family member!!"

"Hm, I thought was everybody's estrange family member!" The gray haired clone retorted with a smirk. A blond clone (dyed, obviously) came up from around the group to Uncle's side. The older clone seem happy to see him, gibbing his hand and slapping him on the shoulder, "Downs...how you keeping these echuta sleemos you call clones!"

"Just as you taught me to. Needled and wrapped up tight!" The clones both laughed.

Carthar silently watched the two as the made their private jokes. From what he gathered from the exchange, the blond was Uncle's fellow medic, stationed with Gamma squad or the Grunts, as everyone seemed to call them. They all acted so close knit, even more so than the clones Carthar met at Basics and Jump School. It was then that it hit the young trooper just what he was. He was the new guy, a unknown who can't even get across the base on his own. He was a shinie...an outsider... ...

"Hey, kid." Carthar was knocked back to reality by Uncle. The gray haired clone placed his hand on the young trooper's shoulder and pulled him a little closer to the clones around the glowlamp, "This is your new man, Grunts, Private CT-2249...Ka..ahh... ... Hey, how do you say your name again?"

"Um...most people just call be Carthar..."

"Right, Carthar here is going to replace Axle." The younger clone blinked and glance at the senior, than looked back at the gathered clones. The few that hadn't had looked at Carthar first now eyed the trooper closely, as though they were skeptical of something about him.

_What? I can shoot. I can run. What?_ After a moment, the young trooper caught on, _...I'm replace someone...which means their on permanent leave from the squad. __**Dead**__._

_The only leave a clone gets._

"Watch after this kid, guys..." Uncle went on, a little more somber, "I mean it. Watch after each other."

"ka' eah, whatever ya' gray nerf herder!"

The senior clone smiled back at Carthar and gave his shoulder a small squeeze before heading off the way they had came. The squad immediately jump right back to their previous merry make, Downs too seemed to meld in the group as he drummed up a conversation. The young trooper was left out, walking around the encircle group as they ignored him. He found small crate less than a meter away, which sat down upon, unsure of what else to do. The clones kept rambling on about nothing in particular, until one of the clones start to get upset.

"No no no!! I'm not pairing up with Pro next patrol!" The clone exclaimed, "He's a busy little peedunkey and he makes me carry that fierfekarking heavy power pack!!!"

"Hey! Who are you calling 'little', Stones!!" Another clone (Pro it seems) screamed at his accuser. Pro was same height as any clone, perhaps taller with the small spike he had formed with the hair on front of his scalp.

"Come on now, Pro." A third clone cut in, "Stones does have a point. He's being paired with you since Omwat. Maybe give the shinie a shot." That really snared Carthar's attention as he sat up straight.

"Ka'eah...well, the shinie probably doesn't know the gun-end of a blaster..." The spiked head clone looked over to the young trooper and called to him, "Hey. CT-what's-your-number... How much action have you seen?"

"Um, I did participute in a number of simulated battles, back on Kamino."

"You have to be kidding me." Pro match right up to Carthar and stared down at him, "You have to be fierfekarking kidding **me**! Are you saying that this is your **first** posting?!"

"...Yes."

"E chu ta!!!" The clone bellowed with his hands grasping the sides of his head, "This guy **worst** than a shinie!! He's one of those...what'chu call them...a fruit... ..."

"A cherry!" A random clone of the squad proclaimed with a chuckle, "He's a clone who has burst his battle cherry!! By the Force, that's grand one!"

"So, Carder-" Pro started, but the young trooper cut him off.

"Carthar."

"Whatever. Seeing that you don't have much experience, I don't know if I should take you now as my partner in crime." The spiked head clone reached into his belt pack and pulled out a small paper-backed container. Pinching his fingers in the container, Pro slide out a small cylinder roll of white paper and place it in between his lips. Carthar watched in wonder as the clone took a second item from his belt, with which he seem to activate a flame and started burning the end of the cylinder. Smoke waved up from the paper roll as the trooper pulled it from his mouth and blew his own puff of smoke. Pro finally noticed him then, "What...you want one, kid?"

"Oh...oh no..." Carthar put on a fake smile and waved his hand in dismissal, "You know what they say, 'Don't shorten the years you already got!'"

"...By the Force. You must be the first shinie I met to quote directly from that anti-smoke poodoo from Basics." The whole group of clones roared with laughter. Carthar, though, felt the need to defend his words and that of the Republic's anti-tabac campaign... ...

"Yeah, laugh it up, guys..." The young trooper called over the clones, "but with all I know, you couldn't threaten me to puff on one of those things."

All at once, the clones ceased their cackling to the point of silence. Carthar watched them, proud that he'd shut them up. However, the squad looking at him. Their heads where turned to the stack of crates on the other side of the glowlamp, where the shadows truly become dark. The young trooper looked between the clones, squinting, trying to make out what was being looked at. To his surpraise, another trooper sat at the base of the crates. With a long DC-15 blaster rifle propped up next to him, the clone moved his hand up to his mouth as a orange light grew bright, than dimed again. After a second, the mysterious trooper stood up. With slow, methodic steps he crossed the distance between Carthar and him, clones parting out of the way. He stopped in front of the young trooper, gazing down at him from around his cigarra.

In the light, Carthar made out much more of the clone. A belt of bandolier pouches was strapped around the clone's chest, probably tripling his kit load. He was dirty, like the rest, and it had somehow seem to fit him, but what really set him apart was long braided ponytail running down the trooper's shoulder. It remained Carthar of hair extension he had seen on Jedi Padawan who visited the troops, though this clone had his split his in two halfway down. The mysterious trooper did seem to care about the regulations on hair length.

"... ..." Carthar watched as the clone continue to stand in silence, as smoke pure through his nostrils. Suddenly the trooper grabbed the top of his, using his entire hand to grip the clone's scalp. The young trooper was shocked and try to stand up, but the hand pushed him back down onto the small crate. With his free hand, the trooper pinched his cigarra from his lips and plopped it into Carhar mouth. With a rag voice, the clone commanded, "**Breath**, trooper..."

Carthar looked down at the burn end of the roll as the small black line crawled slowly along the white paper, morphing it into grayish chunks of ash. An orange glow shone just under the gray, releasing a thin spiral of smoke into the air. The young trooper could already slight taste the tabac on his tongue...or at least what he thought the taste of tabac was.

_It's ok. _The younger clone thought, _If I just sit here and don't breath, he'll just let go... ...right?_

But Carthar sat and held himself from inhaling, and the trooper kept his hand firmly atop clone's head. The cagarra continued to burn closer and closer to the young trooper's mouth. Carthar would be to surprised if the mysterious trooper replace the roll with another, if the clone hadn't taken the desired breath. With no other solution or plan to work out, the young trooper submitted. Sucking in air around and through the cigarra, Carthar felt the tabac smoke squish down his throat, stinking and tickling the breathing passage as it went along. The moment the breath touched his lungs, the younger clone roar out cough, sending the cagarra to the ground along with a trail of spittle leading back up to his lips.

"Definitely a cherry...through and through..." The trooper smirked and dropped his hold, as the squad of clones laughed at the scene.

Carthar bent over himself, grabbing his collar and yanking on it as far as it would go. His eyes watered with a well of tears and his throat screamed in flames. The young trooper's senses had spun about him for a moment, but only moment and he soon gathered himself. The clones were still laughing. Though, quite suddenly they stopped and one of them bellowed out... ...

"Ten-hut!!" The group troopers tensed up straight where they stood and pushed their hands up to their temples. Carthar managed to stand and salute just in time to see two familiar faces, trotting up to the squad. One of them was the paratrooper the younger clone had seen in Captain Burrs bunker oven. The other the ARC sergeant from the transport.

"At ease, troopers..." The paratrooper related as he halted before them. Carthar remember seen this clone help the captain, his bright red markings in shone in vest contrast to the white of the trooper armor. Before Carthar did have good look at the markings, though now he could see that odd triangular designs they made down the right side of him, from the helmet to his belt. The officer went on, "I see your welcoming the new recruit like always. Make sure you don't shake him up _too_, we have a operation unfolding."

"Sir. Doesn't that mean we're finally get a new sarge?" One the clones posed.

"Hopefully he's not another rigid echta who doesn't know his left from his right..." Proclaimed another clone, "I swear, that peedunky would have lead us off a **cliff **if he stayed on!"

"Hey, Lieutenant...shouldn't Saga be taken over Gamma?" Pro inquired to the officer. Carthar watched as he continued to talk, skillfully gripping his cigarra in the side of his mouth, "Last time I checked, sir, the one-man gets hold the reins after the sergeant gets kicked."

"Normally yes, but the captain had...a change of mind." The lieutenant glanced towards his left, to Ram, but went back to speaking, "If there's any cripe about it, cripe to Burrs." The young trooper surveyed about the group of clones. They all seem to turn grim and frown at the prospect of complaining to the captain, which left the ARC in command. That didn't bother Carthar in the least, "Sergeant Ram will brief you on the mission." The lieutenant added, then turned to leave, "...there all yours, Sergeant..."

The commando nodded to the retreating officer and grasped his hands behind his back. Looking over the troopers, Ram study each of them with a steel hard figures. Though, when coming upon Carthar, the elite gave the young trooper a small smirk of acknowledgment. After another minute of silence, he spoke... ...

"I'm not here to step on people's toes, but I do expect you to follow my orders. If you have a problem with what I tell you, then call either shut up yourselves or have me _assist_ your mouths. I'm no command bred, looking for a stepping stone to promotion. I'm here to lead men." The clones looked to each other, some scratching their chins. No one seem to much offense to the ARC's little speech. A few actually smiled, "Ok, then... Go get your sunbonnets and blaster, and we can start our tea party planning."

The squad dispersed, heading out in a few different directions. Pro and the mysterious trooper had paused for moment as the trooper pinched a cigarra from the other trooper's container. Just as Pro lit the clone's roll, the sergeant came up behind him... ...

"Your Saga, right?" The ARC posed to the mysterious trooper. The clone took a drag on his cigarra and slowly turned to the sergeant. Ram took the silence as a yes, "I wanted to say that I never intended to take your command. But I'm not going to apologize for it."

"Hey...just don't get us shoot..." The trooper was as smooth and emotionless as viboblade, it almost shocked Carthar.

"Right." Sarge Ram smiled, then glanced at Pro and pointed to his cagarra, "...tabac?"

"Ahhh...yes, sir..." The clone quickly flicked the roll from his mouth, "I swear I'm just holding them for a friend."

"Well, does you 'friend' mind if I bum one?"

Pro blinked and looked to other trooper, but Saga was already walking away. He left the pack up to the sergeant, to the ARC pull out one the tabac rolls. Ram inspected the cigarra, turning it over in his fingers before putting it up to his nose and sniffed.

"Hmm...carababba?" The sarge inquired.

"No. Just havao, sir."

"Shame." Carthar was lost. Supposedly the two clones were speaking Basic, but the young trooper wasn't too sure. Ram bent in a little as the clone ignited his device and lit the cigarra. Breathing out a puff of smoke, the sergeant continued, "Now if you could do me another favor and hook the private here with latest in GAR blaster fashion."

"Right-ee-o, Sarge. Come on, Cherrie."

The young trooper fumbled after Pro, into the unsound structure. A tiny armory lined the walls of the shack, from mortars to missles. Pro moved to the back, gripping a long blaster with an extra thick barrel.

"Say hello to the T-21 light repeating blaster, Cherrie." The experienced clone said as he cradled the weapon in his arms, "Just under five kilos, fires twelve thousand shots a minute, and is carried with a thirty shot clip. On the ground we've got an integral bipod for support and iron-sites for aiming. Never worry, it's NOT a meant for snipping. With a Info-power-pack, you have over two million laser on the target."

"Now that's a **gun**!" Carthar exclaimed as reached for the blaster, but the other paratrooper promptly swished his hands away.

"Ah ah ah! Shinies don't get the good toys right out the bag. You got to stop being a cherry, Cherrie." Placing the long weapon back down, Pro tossed the young trooper a much shorter blaster, which he caught with relative ease, "DC-15, S. Standard issue, which means it **will** jam in a firefight. Five hundred shots. Good for blasting tinnies and Sanies like nobody's business."

Carthar frowned and looked the blaster carbine up and down. He was trained to handle an assortment of weapons and kit, Deece-S's included, just as all clone had being trained. The young trooper knew this rifle mobile inside out, could even strip and clean the thing blindfolded. He knew full well that it was more than a decent weapon...but Carthar wanted the bigger one! Pro seemed to sense the younger clone's thoughts, but didn't feel like patronizing the trooper though.

"Feh... Hey, Cherrie, big boys don't cry. Suck it up." The paratrooper reached behind himself and picked up a meter or so long hose, placing it around the other clone's neck, "Plasma cable, a crew always carries two because the 21 burns the fierfek out of them. You also carry the Info-power-pack for me, so I'm trusting in those big muscular legs you got from Basics. Ok, Cherrie?"

"Right..."

"I mean it. Your glued onto me out on partrol. By the Force's help, I will shoot you if you start wondering off."

"Ok! I get it!!" Carthar was getting sick of this clone's attitude. Shinie or not, he knew how to work on a repeater team.

"Ka'eah...you better..." Pro threw the long barreled blaster onto his shoulder, along with another plasma cable onto his other. Fixing the young trooper a nasty stare, he brush past the clone and made sure to slam against his shoulder.

Carthar ringed his hand around his weapon's barrel, let his anger bleed through his grip. He's new repeater blaster partner had came close to setting the clone off. The trooper wouldn't have mind knocking Pro's fat mouth to the ground, and he probably would if the paratrooper shut it.

_One good pop and he'd definitely learn his lesson._

The young trooper swallowed his frustrations, grabbed a couple Deece clips, and booked it out the door. The sergeant was kneeling next to the glowlamp, wait patiently as the clones assembled around him. Unlike before, the whole squad was topped with HALOs and armed to the teeth. It was almost surreal seeing the groups who had just a few minutes ago were joking and smiling had morph into this band of somber and decked in full battle-kit. Carthar quickly slipped his helmet on and joined in the proceedings, taking a place next to Downs.

"Ok. We're in for a nice simple mission for starters..." Sergeant Ram place a round disc on the in front of him, to which swoosh of blue jump up from and start to form a irregular shape. A geo-holo of a miniature peninsula pushing out into the ocean, "We got reports of a small band of Sanyassan officers who want to surrender. There should be a few lieutenants and a dozen so regulars. The Grunts, along with rest of 20th platoon, will meet up with them around here..." The ARC pointed to a spot a little north of where the strip of land met the main continent, "If everything goes to plan, this should be a place of _uja_ cake." A few troopers looked to each, then one spoke up... ...

"Sir, should we expect the Sanies to be armed?"

"No, but I'd say keep your eyes trained for any surprises." The sarge gazed down at his chrono and continued, "The meet's twelve klicks away and a couple hours march. Should be dawn by the time we get there, local time."

The squad remain silent, absorbing the sergeant's words and thumbing over any possible "surprises" they could run into. Carthar felt his insides clench a little, either from excitement or anxiety, he wasn't sure. He wondered if anyone else was feeling the same clenching. But that's stupid, he would quickly surmise, since all the other clones were all veterans from one planet or another. The young trooper speedily cleared his mind of thoughts as the squad started to move out... ...

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"They'll come from the east..."

General Rahm Kota was standing atop a hill, not far from their bunker command center, surveying the coming attack's front lines. Pulling his electrobinoculars back up to his eyes, the Jedi click the zoom and melted the haze of distance that distort the view of the area being so far away. The petite woman next to him, Major Tekshar, study the front lines with unassisted site. Though, no matter how one looked at the topography was only one word that fit the location... ...

Wasteland.

When Republic forces landed on the planet, a massive battle ensued. Being the dry season of that particular area, the fight ignited thousand of brush fires which leaded to blaze that washed over the entire continent. In it's wake, the planet's once lush and hilly fields became a black and dirty corpse. Scatters of craters, punch in by artillery, added to the effect. It was more like a dead moon than the farmers' planet it was.

"They'll come from the east and with enough tanks and armor to capture Coruscant." Kota removed his binoculars and glance to his senior officer.

"Sir, I could get a team down there in no time and start placing mines and tank-traps."

"No...no...that would tip our hand to their scours, then we would have lost our major adventure in the fight. We need to surprise them when they launch their surprise attack." The Jedi set his electrobinoculars back up and traversed across the fields. After a moment, he pointed to the far right of the front, "That low rise seems promising. If we can quietly get a number Saber tanks there...and keep a few on the front...it will leave their flanks open to an attack and they never see it coming."

"A giant ambush, covering a hold battlefield..." Tekshar definitely like the sounds of this plan, "We could cut their forces in half before the fight really started."

The general beamed his senior office a small smile, showing his pride at her rapid anaysis of the situation. Kota had quickly took the young lady under his wing when see was still just a struggling Judicial recruit. Now Aasia Tekshar was equal of any general in the GAR, superior to any clone commander. Of the Padawans and Knights that Kota help train, this average Kuati girl had somehow beat them to the Jedi's heart. The general wonder if his feelings were something close to father's.

"They'll still try to over run us with infantry. Probably a mass of droids, followed by Sanyassan fighters..."

"Sanie mercs...experienced, but under trained and armed." The major was on her ball today, "They'll go down like any wet troopers."

"If you learn anything from being a jedi, it's that over confidence is a death note. Master Gatama teaches us to be mindful of our future effects, but focus on the truth of the moment. In war, the here and now is more important than battlefield predictions."

"Isn't it a little odd to use the words of a pacifist Jedi Master in war tactics?"

"Ha...Some would no doubtingly say that..."

"General Kota!!" The two twisted around and caught site of a blue fatigued soldier in chest armor and pads, running full speed over to them, "General Kota!!!"

"Calm down, boy!" Kota exclaimed as the soldier skidded to a halt.

"General, sir! We're unable to contact several planets with Republic forces."

"You can't **WHAT**!!!"

"I-I-I, umm..." The soldier blinked, startled by the Jedi's tone, "Sennatt and Tao-Grant and Kothlis, none of them can be reach at the moment."

"How is this possible. Those planets have the best communicate stations on this side of the **galaxy**!"

"Sir, if we can't contact those outposts soon they'll be wide open to the Sanyassan's push." Tekshar voiced the general's fears, precisely.

_I think I trained her too well..._, Kota groaned in his mind.

"There's something else, sir..." The soldier related. The Jedi gave him a glare, causing the poor man to fumble again, "Th-um-um, the Bothans are have trouble, too. None of their forces are receiving their transmissions, it seems, sir."

"The Bothans...have an communications break down?"

"That would explain the Republic outposts we can reach..." The major added, "We rely on Bothan supplied communications on those planets."

"Private, have shuttles prepare and sent to relay the message. We can't afford to lose a single one of them!"

"Yes, sir!!" The soldier turned and raced off to the bunker entrance.

"...Do you think the word will reach them in time..."

Kota glanced at Tekshar, noticing her normally calm expression stretch out in worry. He had nothing solid or promising to tell the major, nothing hopeful at least. So the Jedi said the one thing a jedi would say in such a circumstance... ...

"All we can do is trust in the Force, Aasis..."

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Through the heights of the canopy, Kothlis' morning light began to pour down on squad of troopers as they crept across the jungle floor. Carthar was among, walking single file behind Pro, as their ARC sergeant lead the clones. Sarge Ram and Saga had had a small argument pertaining the elite's choose of taking the position on point-lead of the squad, as would seem that Saga normally took point. As the young trooper reviewed the exchange in his mind agree, he concluded that it wasn't really an argument. For an argument, both sides needed to speak. Saga just had glared at the sergeant after he mentioned taking point, to which the ARC had simple glared back. In the end, the sarge took point-lead and the silent trooper just accepted it with a deep throated growl.

Carthar continued to follow behind Pro, keeping an eye to the ground for any twigs or branches to avoid. They had to be careful of how much noise they were making, especial this far into enemy territory. The squad had even left some of their equipment back at the base for the sake of stealth. The young trooper mindlessly glance over to the far right of himself as another squad quietly maintained a parallel speed to them. From his HALO's HUD display, the clone could identify each of the troopers by his serial number, trailed by the clone's call sign. Half away to the across the line of troopers, Carthar spotted caught site of number 'CT-1007 "Uncle"'. Downs had told him that Uncle was in Theta squad, which appeared to be this band of clones.

The young trooper went back to focusing on the ground, twisting and turning his feet around the assortment of noise-making jungle debris as the squad pressed on. Trodding down at angle, the clone started to fall forward until he shifted the heavy power pack on his back and straighten out. Pro looked back and shock his head. That was all the sympathy he gave the young trooper, even though he was the one made Carthar carry the half of ton pack. The paratrooper felt like cursing Pro...but he never paid attention to any of the swear words he had heard... ...

After a while, the sound of waves clashing against each other hid Carthar's ears. It was coming somewhat from his left, behind a wall of the thick plants and wood. Remember the holo, the young trooper deduced they close to the peninsula's ended the main continent began, where the meet was be held. The sergeant must of realize what Carthar had, as he his right hand sprang up in fist to signal the squad to halt. Dropping to one with rest of the clones, brought his Deece to bare and scanned the dimly lit forest. Theta had done the same, along with other two squads farther off to the right. The clone platoon had reached their destination.

"Ambush formations..." A clone's voice, Lt. Czar's, whispered across the comlink. The troopers jumped back up and head off in ever which direction, clone sergeants highlighting needed positions behind trees and in between shrubby.

"Cherrie! This way!" Pro called to the young trooper in a hushed tone.

The clone pair rushed left, toward the plant wall separating the jungle from the ocean. Continuing around the back of troopers settling into kneeling and prone firing positions, all the way to the outer flank. Pro dropped to the ground first, behind a moss covered log, placing the repeating blaster's bipod legs atop it's bark. Carthar rolled the heavy power pack off of his back and the two paratroopers knelt behind their wooding barrier. The younger clone started to work on unlocking the packs connector flap as his partner yanked blaster's aim clip out. The paratrooper pulled the power cable from around his neck and handed it to Carthar, then the pair plugged it in and linked the pack and blaster in a devilish cohesion of destruction. Infinite ammo, baby... ...

His task done, the young trooper raised his DC-15 barrel over the log and aim in the direction that Pro had. An opening in the canopy laid just and arms length from the clones, covered in ferns and with a single dusty trail crossing it. The path was perpendicular to Carthar and Pro, as well as it was with every over clone in the platoon. It was a firing angle, any trooper would have picked it...as the case was. From his HUD, Carthar spot the lieutenant dropping by the trunk of a tree not too far away from the trail. Sarge Ram was closer to them, somewhere in a grouping of bushes, the paratrooper couldn't quite see.

Carthar suddenly released that he was panting! When had he start panting?! When was he going to stop? The trooper's heart was beating rapidly, too, pulsating the veins in the back of the clone's head. _Thump. Thump. Thump._ It was starting to get to Carthar. For the longest time, nothing happened. The forest was dead quiet, no one spoke and the path remained empty. The young trooper gulped down a swallow, finally taking control of his breathing as a remnant of tabac filled his mouth. That taste just doesn't leave!!

_This is my first mission on my first deployment, why am I even thinking about his stuff?_ Carthar tried to pull his focus back to the field.

Suddenly a shape appeared back in the reaches of the jungle before settling back into darkness. Was that enemy or an animal? Maybe just a branch falling? They couldn't shoot, whatever the case, so the young trooper willed himself to calm down. Another shape moved, then another and another. Soon, humanoids began to form, standing two by two, walking down the path. As they reached the light of the clearing, Carthar got a full look at them in their their plush metal plate-armor, set in dark brown leather. Must of them wore helmets, some with pointy face masks. They must have made to protect the head from blades and arrows, they didn't seem too effective against a blaster shot. A good number of them carried weapons as long as they were, two meters height, and were topped with double prong spearhead. A few, though, had traditional blaster rifles.

Sanyassans.

They were all walking at very hesitated pace, watching the ground as they moved like the clones had. All but one. A Sanie was marching up the length of them, carrying a HUGE broadsword and wearing a long fabric cape over his shoulder. Carthar deduced that he was an officer, probably the one who would offically surrendered to them. The Sanie officer turned his head about, studying the clearing as his troopers move slowly across it.

_**Snap**_!

A sharp noise rung through the air and the Sanies all squatted close to the ground. Some clone must have step on a twig as he checked the chart on his Deece or moved to a better aim. Carthar was too tensed up to make such a mistaken, frozen to the spot he original targeted. The Sanie officer pulled his mask up from recoiled position for a better look. He was fifty meters from the young trooper, but the clone could still make out his sunken in eyes, slit nostrils, and flat noise. It was too surprise that the clones called them "monkey-faces".

Carthar glance to the Pro, unsure what to do. Older clone looked back for a second and returned to watching the Sanyassans. Obivously, he had nothing to offer either. Without warning, the lieutenant shouted out to them... ...

"Contact Zero!" That was a code word to identify the deserters. They should be saying 'True Orders', or something painful would befall them.

"First Meet!" At first, Carthar thought that he heard the Sanie wrong. But soon the lieutenant bellowed over the comlink... ...

"Lay into them, boys!!!"

The clearing erupted with blue streams of the plasma shots. Pro had his long repeating blaster roaring away next to Carthar's ear, sending a wall of bright shots over the numerous ferns and into the squatting Sanies. The young trooper brought his Deece to bare and squeezed the trigger. _Wham!_ The shot ranged out and Carthar squeezed the trigger again. _Wham!_ A second shot and again he squeezed the trigger. _Click..._ ...

The clone quickly re-primed the blaster and squeezed the trigger. _Click..._ nothing. The young trooper pulled his clip out of the Deece and checked it's charge. It was still full, which meant the barrel was jammed and he was in a firefight without a functioning weapon. However, it hadn't matter.

"Hold your fire! Hold your fire!!" Czar commanded over the shooting.

The shots stopped. Carthar breathed a sigh, he heard his partner released one as well. The sudden change from apprehending to mowing down had caught all the clones a little off, as a whole they were calm and ready for more. All the Sanie soldiers laid, motionless, in the center of clearing. The young trooper's body had went to work on his failed blaster, rechecking the charge and jammed barrel. It was all muscle memory, Carthar didn't even need remember what to do. It add to the surreal awe of the moment.

"And that's how they go down, Cherrie..." Pro related to the young trooper.

Carthar looked at the paratrooper next him as patted his T-21 repeater like a domesticated mooka, with the same amount of affection. The trooper sighed heavily again, moving to rest his head upon their log barrier. At the moment the clone's helmet touch the bark, the log burst apart! Splinters and wooden chunks scrapped along Carthar's HALO, as the young trooper fell onto the ground.

"In coming **fire**!! From the forest!" A clone cried as Carthar realized that it was a blaster shot that evaporated the log from under him.

"Come on!! We got to move!!!" Screamed Pro, picking his long barreled weapon up and jumping over the remains of the log.

The young trooper cast his failed Deece aside and heaved the have power pack in both his arms, crimson lights dance around them in deadly effect. The two clones dash into the clearing, stopping to set up behind a small boulder. The jungle before them was jetted out dozens of red shots, culminating from Sanie blaster repeaters and rifles. It reminded Carthar of looking up into a rainstorm on Kamino, droplets constantly falling down and down. Though these droplets were something you would want to avoid. Pro kept his T-21 roaring, sending out small bursts as he scanned the forests edge. Just beyond the paratrooper, Carthar saw Sergeant Ram dashing up to a forward position as WESTAR sprayed away what was in front of him.

"Move up and right, Gamma!" The ARC bellowed, "Push them on the right!!! Into the ocean!!"

Another clone had run up beside the sergeant, dropping to his knee to fire as Ram kept move right. Suddenly a short stick flew from the tree line and hit the clone right in the face, bouncing off his HALO. Phased at first, the trooper looked down at the stick and seemed to recognize whatever it was. As he picked it up, the clone started to run towards the jungle with stick held in his out stretched arm.

_**Bang**_!!

The clone's side exploded in a large cloud of dust. As it settled, the trooper became visible as he sat on his knees, the stick was gone. Along with the clone's **arm**.

"Concussion grenades!!" Pro shouted as launched a long burst form his weapon.

"Don't stop! Keep moving!!" The elite clone yelled across the comlink as he ran to the dismembered trooper's side.

As Sarge Ram wrapped the clone's existing arm around his neck and pulled him along, another grenade was flung from the forest and exploded in the air. The ARC didn't stop, though. He just kept yanking the clone and himself out of the clearing as Carthar watched in wonder. The young trooper was snapped to his sense by a some thudded to his helmet and rolled his back. It was oddest feeling.

"Cherrie!! Get down!!!" Pro cried as he leaped upon the clone.

_**BANG**_!!!!

The blast was longer than any of the others, deafening Carthar as rang out. The paratrooper's weight still pressed down onto the young trooper, some much so that Carthar had to roll Pro from off of himself as he pushed up. Looking down at his savior, first thing the trooper noticed was the clone's twitching arm almost slapping his thigh. Pro's back that faced the younger clone was littered holes and gashes. His HALO was missing a large piece in the back, just like Pro's head... ...

_Pro saved me from that..._ The young trooper thought, mouth agape under his helmet,_ That could have been me. That's going to be me!!_

Carthar scrambled to the T-21, bracing it's butt against his shoulder and squeezed the trigger. A rain of shimmering blue shots ripped across the clearing, into the trees and Sanies. Soon the red fire as zeroing in on Carthar, sending shots into the boulder underneath and whistling by the trooper's head. The clone's heart raced faster, pumping more and more adrenaline into his system. With thinking about it, the young trooper stood up with repeating blaster in the nook of his arm and sprayed the lower reaches of the tree line. A few screams ranged out and much of the red shimmers faded for a few moments. Without worrying, a hand grabbed the back of Carthar's arm and pulled him down behind the rock.

"We're pulling back to base!" Sarge Ram proclaimed to the clone. Carthar blinked and reached over to the power pack, but swapped his away from it, "No!! Leave it!"

The young trooper nodded and disconnected the cable from the repeating blaster. The elite tossed Carthar a couple clips from Pro's belt before hauling the shaking clone onto his shoulders. The two started a long march back to the rear of the fighting, back down the trail towards the base. Carthar stopping a few times to knee and fire, giving Ram and rest of platoon time to retreat, until another trooper took up the firing. The Sanies kept moving and pressing the attack, never letting up... ...

G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G

_Named after a predominant figure in Sanyassan astrology, the Jotun Offense was one of the bloodiest pushes in the war. In first few hours, thousands of Bothan defenders were killed...along with millions of clones._

_We had the misfortune of meeting the vanguard of that attack on our mission to take in a surrendering enemy. Weather Sanies planned to hid us or if it was just an accident, nobody actually found out. What I remember, though, was all the _vod_ troopers we left back in that clearing to die. The Sanies had fun with them. If I had it my way we would have fought back to them, just so that we could give them a faster death. We were too busy at the time to do that even._

_With Grievous' fleet coming in a few days, the Sanies weren't going to let up soon... ..._

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Author's Note: Review!!!!


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Shorter then the last, but quality over quantity. Read & Review!

Disclaimer: Must I? Ok, Star Wars is a copyright of Lucasfilm, Lucasarts, and all right go to G.L. himself. But if I was George Lucas, I would buy the sun. That's why I'm not George Lucas.

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_Five days... ..._

_Five days of fighting,_

_Five days of screaming hostiles._

_Five days of rain,_

_Mud sloshing around in our boots and between our armor._

_Five days of being pushed,_

_passed the base and across into the city._

_Five days of urban warfare,_

_Of ducking into other people's homes._

_Five days of hell..._

_Five days of death..._

_Five days... ..._

G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G

The sky rumbled as a torrent fell down the sides of tall spires of metal, glass, concrete. It gathered in the streets, flowing viciously along the roads, alleys, and walkaways. Carthar watch the river sweep by him, rolling around debris from the buildings that had once shielded there interiors from the outside. The rain dripped from the honeycomb of rooms, spraying a steady streams of water into the street rivers below. The young trooper watched all of this as he waited...waited for the armored tanks and transports to passby.

Carthar was was lying on his stomach in blasted out building, overlooking the street rivers through a hole on the ground level. He clenched the T-21 repeating blaster between his hands and press it's butt against his shoulder, the sound of engines humming and tank-tracks crawling came closer and closer. The clone next the young trooper, they called him "Chappie", press on the cable connections on power pack and the repeater. He was nervous, Carthar was too, but they both knew that couldn't get scared. They would have to get scared later.

The lead tank moved by the clones' hole, a testament of how durasteel and engine grease could make a killing machine. The young trooper's eyes scanned up tracks, along the double blaster cannons set into the turret. It was a massive beast, nearly touching the oppose buildings about the street. The tank's girth was probably to make up for it's primitive nature, Carthar concluded with little double in his mind. Especially with Republic repulsorlift vehicles, that could literally float circles around the tank. It's thick, angled armor was it's advantage and it's enormous cannons were the tank's fists.

As the tank passed, another followed with a Sanie peering from it's top hatch. Carthar blinked at the being. He didn't seem the least bit phased by down pour of rain on his bare face. The brown metal troop transport came next. An odd construction, the transport consisted of two long cylinders that were conjoined together like two cars on a hovertrain. The transport, though, lacked the repulsorlifts to carry it's weight, so it too was carried along by series of caterpillar tracks, much like the tanks. A pair of Sanyassan weathered the rained atop the transport, manning two heavy repeating blasters positioned on the both cars.

_**KABOOM**_!!!!!

The lead the tank suddenly burst into ball of flames, whipping shrapnel into the walls, the street, and even skipping past the Carthar's and Chappie's hole. The convoy halted, finding the burning wreck impassable, and began reversing. At the same time, the transport's sides split apart and rows of Sanie infantry started blasting away with their rifles and pikes. The young trooper was quick to act, springing his T-21 into a roar, spending dozens of deadly blue shimmers into the rows. The Sanies were fell down neatly, like grass being cut by a swift blade. Carthar panned his fire up, trailed a blaster shots along the top and into the one of the soldiers on the transport. The Sanyassan's follow gunner had not very kindly to clone's action and began throwing his own storm of crimson shots down on the clones' position. The paratroopers immediately ceased firing and crawled deeper into the building, pulling their equipment behind them.

The Sanyassan was kept spraying the building, filling every window and exposed room with enough blaster shots to knock down a frigate. Carthar and his partner rushed up the stairs to the building's fourth level. The clones found a small gash cutting away the floor and the wall, just under a window. Dropping down and peering through the gash, the young trooper had a decent view overlooking the armored convoy and street below. The gunner was still blasting away, occasionally passing by the window above the two with a wave of red shots, to which paratroopers quickly ducked and hoped their luck was better than the Sanie's. Suddenly, Carthar noticed that the second car on the transport was still closed. That met that the troopers had only eliminated half of the soldiers, leaving a twenty or so infantry and one tank remaining to clean up.

"Saga, take the last car..." Sergeant Ram's voice popped to life over the comlink, "Downs, you're with me on the tank."

From an alley across the street, the sarge and Downs emerged and sped up the flowing river to the convoy. Saga appeared from the other side, come up behind the two with interesting weapon under his arm. A flamethrower. Now, the heavy Republic flamethrowers were little different from an average fire projecting weapon. There flames burned hotter, think **hell blaze**, and they would keep burning whatever it hit no matter what the weather was like. Even in the ferocious downpour of the rain, the light on the end of Saga's flamethrower stayed bright and strong.

The clones neared the transport. The sergeant banked lift of the armored vehicle, Downs to the right. Saga stopped at the rear of the transport and carefully climbed to the top of the car, where the Sanyassan gunner kept blasting the building. The trooper crept along the car, the Sanie still oblivious as the clone moved closer and closer. Carthar could guess what was going to happen... ...

_**Whack**_!!!

Saga's boot slammed against the Sanie's head, knock it into a unnatural position. The gunner's repeating blaster fell silent, as the soldier slid off the car and splashed into the street below. Then paratrooper scrambled to a hatch atop the transport, stuck the nozzle of his flamethrower down, and squeezed the trigger.

_**WHUMPH**_!!!!

Every unfixed seal and hole on the transport erupted out fire! Downs, who had been standing next to the vehicle, stumbled to the side as a column of flame shot out from a port just in front of him. Carthar noticed that the medic grab onto straps connected the pack he was hauling as the clone recollected himself. A shout rang out from the head of the convoy, crying out something that the young trooper could understand. Gazing towards the remain tank, Carthar's eyes widened as he saw the massive hulk's turret begin to revolve around. Downs was continued standing, unaware as the tank's cannons pivoted to point at the clone medic.

"DOWNS!! LOOK OUT!!!" The young trooper bellowed over the com.

The trooper whipped his head to the tank and moment later it fired. Dual crimson beams flew from the cannons and struck the ground, sending a column of water and dirt up as high as Carthar's and Chappie's position. The young trooper jumped up to the window, leaning out of the building for a better look as the clone balanced on frame with his hips. The Sanie atop the tank was still screaming as he waved his to the other side of the transport, apparently throwing out commands as the turret moved to that direction. The sarge glance to the armored beast, then towards the transport, before another blaster toppled into the ground and producted a second column.

"**SARGE**!!!"

The Sanyassan tank commander's head snapped to the Carthar, as the clone flailed out the window. The Sanie screamed an order, pulled a hand blaster from seemingly nowhere, and started popping shots at the young trooper. Chappie grabbed the back of his partner's armor, yanking the clone away from the window and the red lasers. Moving down to once again to the gash, clone pair watched as Saga trailed up the length of the transport with his head down, his flamethrower primed. However, the tank commander much the wiser than his Sanie gunner cousin and aim a few shots at the coming clone. Saga leaped from the top of the car, landing on the flowing street with a loud splash. The tank's barrels pivoted down at the fallen paratrooper as the water swirled around him. The tank commander gave a crooked smirk as he aimed his own gun, taking pleasure in the thought of aiding in the cannon's overkill undertaking of the clone. Saga just looked at the Sanyassan, the glare from beneath his HALO helmet screamed his vizer. A "Wha's holding you, sleemo?" seem to be the trooper's message.

Suddenly, a form appeared from between the transport's series of tracks not too far from Saga. Launching a burst from his WESTAR, Sarge Ram rushed to the fallen trooper's side as Downs existed from the same space as the elite clone...from **beneath** the transport. Carthar blinked, awe struck by the turn of events, as the sergeant knelt next to Saga and blasted the tank with his repeating carbine. The beams washed of the armored hulk, knocking the Sanie commander off the top and scream as he fell onto the watery ground. The driver must have startled by the Sanyassan's cries, as hit the accelerator and slammed in the smoking wreck of the first tank.

"Downs, now!" That was all the ARC said as he dash to the tank, leaping up and climbing the beast to it's height. The clone medic passed Saga, glance down at him as the paratrooper gripped his shoulder, but continued to the durasteel hulk. The sarge crawled to the tank's opened hatch and let off a couple of rounds, turning to Downs, "Set the charges!"

The paratrooper nodded and rolled the pack off his shoulders and drove his hands into it's depths, fishing his arms around in a blind search of his confines. Pull a short cylinder from the pack, Downs twisted the top of the object from which it started to flash bright red. The flashes timed apart, but with each second they grew closer and closer together. The clone medic yanked himself up the hulk and to the hatch, throwing the cylinder down opening. Without wasting another moment, scrambled off the tank... ...

_**KABOOM**_!!!!!

The explosion shook the buildings around the street, shattering what few windowpanes remain intact. The floor Carthar had been lying on rumbled up and down as bits of wall and clumps of dust dropped down. The young trooper to thought that the whole structure just might collapse atop of Chappie and him, though the shaking settled as quickly as the ringing of the bang in the damp air. The pair stood and gazed out the window. The colossal metal hulk blown to asunder, blacken twists of durasteel in shapes that lead it hard to believe that they had ever held together to form a tank. Sergeant Ram was surveying the ruins as clone medic checked on Saga, now standing on his own without anyone's assistance. Clone partners speeded down the length of stairs and into the street to meet with successful troopers.

"...a subluxation of the right humerus from the glenoid..." Downs said aloud as Carthar and Chappie neared. The medic gentle touched the troopers injured shoulder, "Really it's just a slight dislocation from your shoulder bone, Saga. When get back to the command post I'l-"

Without warning or waiting for Downs to finish, the injured clone matched over the wall of near by building rammed his shoulder into blunt surface with a grunt. The young trooper blinked as Saga repeated the move again and second time. On the third hit, sickening pop was heard and the paratrooper ceased his shoulder slams. Saga panted, leaning against the wall with his good arm. Downs just sighed heavily and held his forehead with his hand. Chuckle passed Carthar's lips, he couldn't help it, that was how Saga was. The panting clone turned his sites to the young trooper, quickly closing the distance between them... ...

"Where was that repeater, Cherrie?" Saga inquired with sharp tone, pushing the younger clone back with both his hands, "You almost got me killed screaming for your ARC papa instead of doing your job. Manning that 21! What were you thinking?! **Huh**!!!"

The paratrooper kept pushing Carthar farther and farther back. The young trooper was at a lost of words as he scrambled backwards, trying to remain on his feet as Saga continued his onslaught. Shoves gathered more and more strength behind them, until Carthar fell right on ass onto the river street. Saga glared down at the clone and then made move towards him. Luckily, before anything more serious could happen, Ram grabbed the older clone and pushed him away.

"Saga-" The clone tried to push by the sarge to get at Carthar again, and again the elite shoved him back, "Saga! I won't have this in my squad!! Cool your head, **now**."

"Yeah...you'd let the lil' frierfek kill us all before you kicked the Mandalore convert..." The paratrooper's comment was followed by the ARC's fist slamming Saga in a uppercut, under his helmet and against the clone's chin. The trooper stumbled back onto his knees, gripping his face his HALO.

"Next time you defy my command, Saga, I'll knock you back to Kamino, too."

The trooper glared, looking as though was about to say something, however Ram pointed his finger down to the clone and prompted him keep his mouth shut. Carthar pulled himself up, pouring his attention to his weapon to check if it's immersion in the street river had effected it's functions. The guilt from Saga's words swelled in the young trooper's throat, making every swallow a slight hassle. The older clone was right, he had messed up by not joining in from the window. He had instead let himself get caught up into the possibility of losing the sergeant. For the love of it all, he almost got shot because of it. Downs had moved behind the ARC and began studying a protrusion in the back plate of Ram's armor.

"Sarge, you got a chunk of tank ya'..." The clone medic declared very somberly, despite atmosphere around the elite, "We should get you and Saga back to the command post for a complete check up. Ok?"

The sergeant glanced at Downs and nodded, then silently waved a command move out. The five clones quickly packed up their scattered equipment and start off towards the inner city. They were in for a walk. It wasn't as though the clones' command post was a few blocks from the frontal-fighting lines. Added with the zig-zags the squad made to throw off any enemy scouts that might be trailing them back to base...or snipers zeroing in on them to pick a clone or two off (Carthar didn't like paying to much mind that). Like always, Chappie started to find his voice after the battle was done and over... ...

"Hey, did you guys hear?" The clone related across their comlink as the squad moved through a long back alley, "The Banking Clan is denying it's membership in the Separatist Alliance."

"What?!" The young trooper glanced back at Chappie, "You've got to be kidding around!"

"No! They had a press conference yesterday and made an official announce, 'We ain't with those guys!' It was all over Holonet."

"Well, Chappie..." Downs began, dripping in cynicism, "What about...I don't know...the thousands of droids and starships of their's that just keep popping up on CIS' side?!"

"Oh, those are just rogue Banking Clan security forces, of course..." The clone's sarcasm was painfully obvious, "They're just follow the command of _former_-Chairman San Hill because of his charismatic and/or monetary persuading abilities. At least that's what was said at Banking Clan's conference."

"You know what I say to that..." Saga added, prompting the whole squad to jump on his leading statement... ...

"**Poodoo**!!!" The clones shouted in unison.

Carthar grinned under his HALO, his spirits raising at being apart of the troopers' comradery and inside jokes. Saga's actions and attitude was more along the lines of his personality than any grudge or hatred, according to Chappie that is. All the clones in the squad had tip-toed around the paratrooper as he was something of a perfectionist when it came to battlefield conduct. But what the older clone said had sunk deep into Carthar. Back at that jungle... back on the young trooper's first mission... when Pro saved his life and Carthar took up the 21... ... it was never to return the favor. The clone was trying to save his partner back then, fight only to save his skin. The fallen clone would of been died if Sergeant Ram hadn't came, and it was Carthar's fault that Pro was hit.

Clones don't fight for themselves, they fought for their brothers.

Half an hour later, the squad arrived at command post's outskirts. It positioned at tall high-rise at the corner of a major intersection, walls of sandbags and AT-TE wreckage filled the streets lead up to it. Weaving through the debris, the clones came into the inner area of the base, made up of the small public square just outside of the high-rise. Before the Sanies' main attack, the square would probably have been filled with hungry Bothans hoping to grab a bite on their lunch hour. Now, there were only few odd clone troopers making repairs to a lone walker, set up next to a cafe that would have feed the office-goers. Okay, Carthar was hungry. Unfortunately for the young trooper, the cafes and restaurants lining the public square were temporarily closed, their owners taking refuge in the city's shelters. It was military cuisine for these troopers...lucky them... ...

The sergeant lead the squad up the front of the high-rise where a large archway opened the building to the outside world. In great, bold print in both Basic and Bothese the words, "Hotel Legacy" graced the top of the arch. It was true, the clone's command post during the battle was the five star Hotel Legacy, famed throughout the sector...though it's present condition it hardly seem the paradise resort of the rich. Artillery hits had knocked a hefty section of the top floor, where most the luxury suites had sat. The paratroopers had made their renovations to the high-rise, blow out holes in the walls and refilling them with sandbags and E-webs. The kitchen was still stand, though. When the hotel still functioning, it held a extravagant restaurant in the lobby. However, the troopers hadn't the five star cooks to go with their five star restaurant kitchen. Just army cooks, and army cooks still conjure their intestinal torture, a.k.a chow, despite the facilities. Didn't matter to the clones, though, with their age-accelerated high metabolisms.

In the plush red captured lobby, the squad spit apart. Saga went immediately for the staircase leading up to bunks/former hotel rooms, but Downs stopped him and redirect the trooper down to the basement where the aid station was set up. The clone medic grabbed the sarge, as well, dragging the ARC behind him as pushed Saga along. Carthar headed to the mess area, followed by Chappie. Repeater blaster teams normally stuck together, even after missions, but the young trooper suspect that the clone was just as hungry as he was. Crossing into the hotel's dinning hall, the pair of troopers found Uncle sitting down at one the numerous tables with his HALO off.

"Hey! Uncle!!" Carthar shouted over to the gray haired clone, the room was just that big and Uncle that far that one would need to. The elder clone medic looked up from the datapad he was holding and gave the two a slight wave and smile.

"Hows the hunting, boys?" Uncle called over to the pair, as they closed the distance.

"Two tanks. And transport filled with a Sanie platoon!"

"Heh..." The gray haired clone took up a spoon from the table and shoveled it into a plate of grounded meat in a dark sauce, before bring it up to his lips. The young trooper sat himself across Uncle, setting his long barreled blaster against the table and removing his helmet to his lap. Chappie rolled the power pack he had carried off his shoulders and placed his Deece on in front of his choose set. Then the clone walked up to the mess line to grab a plate of whatever Uncle was eating. Carthar sprawled out along the table, letting his rain-socked armor drip across the surface, attracting the attention of gray haired clone, "By the Force, Cherrie! Your wetter than a Aiwha's ass in thunderstorm!!"

"Oh. Yeah..." The younger clone smiled. It hadn't upset him that Uncle had picked up Carthar's little nickname. Nor that the older trooper had stated the obvious. He was out of the rain, out of the fight. Even if it was for few hours, it was a blessing for a clone. A thought flickered in back of Carthar's mind, "...So, how is Pro doing...?"

"Last I check he seemed fine..." Uncle glance down at his datapad and typed a few commands, bring up the desired report, "Yup, he's breathing on his own and he's even chewing some of his food."

"That's...*sigh*...I mean is he getting better?" The gray haired clone looked Carthar in the eye, but remained in a silent frown. The young trooper turned his gaze back down to the table, finding it much more bearable than Uncle's look of pity. He did noticed Chappie's return or that the clone had placed a plate of food next him, at least he didn't try to. The younger clone couldn't hold it any longer, "... ...He's not going to get better, is he?"

"... ..." The medic still said nothing. Chappie looked between the two, quickly surmising the nature of the conversation. Uncle reached down beside his chair and held up a relatively short rifle, and changed to a different subject, "Got my the new weapon I was wait for. DH-17 blaster rifle."

"That's a Sanie gun, right?" Chappie posed, lift his HALO off and scratching his chin bound goatee.

"Yeah. The quartermaster approved of it just a bit ago."

"I thought that DH-17 was made by Blastech..." Carthar joined in, confused by this little revelation, "They're a Republic allied company, aren't they?"

"Ah yes, that's right. But what a lot of you clones don't know is that Sanyassan Privateers were mercenary organization hired by the Baobab Merchant Fleet. So they met the Judicial Department's requirements as contractors..." The two younger clones stared at the gray haired clone as though he had grown a second hand. Uncle released a heavy sigh and rubbed his temple, "Didn't you flat-tops read up on the Sanie conflict...?"

"All I remember from that was that the Sanies are bad, very bad." Carthar's partner dug a spoon-full of grounded meat and shoved in into his mouth.

"_Very bad_, huh, Chappie..." The young trooper eyed the clone with raised eyebrow, "Here I always thought they were overly aggressive realtors with an eye on Bothan Space." Chappie stopped eating for a second and narrowed his eyes at the trooper.

"Yeah, well whatever the case, they were on the Republic's side at one time..." The elder clone took command of the dialogue, once again, "The Judicial Department can't be everywhere at once, especial before you and me and GAR was created. So, they encouraged the privatization of of sector security. They bought blasters, vehicles, medical supplies, the **works** and supplied any _contractors_ that were been hired by loyalist planets and companies. The Sanies got fifty thousand Deehe-17s, courtesy of the Republic tax payers."

"_Osik_...that's pretty messed up..." The older clone turned a brow to Carthar's choice of curses, but push it out of mind.

"Well, that's just how it goes. It's a good weapon, anyway..." Uncle handed the rifle to the young trooper. The blast carbine was longer than a Deece-15-S, but still much shorter the standard Deece. The barrel extend from the stock and the power clip receiver was positioned on the button, instead of on one the sides. A box construction was attached near the end of the barrel, but it seem to have no function for either the firing or aiming mechanisms, "Oh...yeah... Before Deece-S's were issued, the Eighth used Deehe-17's for a while. You can throw them in the mud, let it rust, and you can still fire a clip done range..give it that you have to kick the damn thing to prime the chart, though. It's a weapon you'd call 'soldier proof'."

Carthar hands moved across the odd box on the barrel. Two opposite placed buttons interested the clone's fingers as he pulled a blaster a little closer. Pressing them independently had done nothing, so the young trooper took his thumb and forefinger onto the buttons and squeezed them in unison. Suddenly seven centimeter long blade ripped from the box, almost plunging itself in Carthar's head, and started vibrating like a electric razor. The young trooper almost dropped the rifle, rocketing back into his chair with gasp. Uncle start a barking laugh at the scene, Chappie chuckled around the spoon in his mouth.

"Ha! Sorry, Cherrie! Ha ha!! I forget..." Taking a deep breath end his cackle, the gray haired clone made a grin as he continued, "The Sanie's add vibo-bayonets to the Deehes. They put pointy things on all their small arms, even their repeating blasters. Fierfek if I know why, though." Carthar study the viboblade as it waved in the air. Without warning, the comlink on the clone's helmet came to life... ..

"Chappie! _Ka'rta_!" Sergeant Ram's voice called over the com, "Double-time it, down to the aid station!!"

"So much for lunch, huh..." Uncle related as the younger clones stood up and gathered their gear, "Maybe you should have gotten it to go!"

The pair marched out of the dining hall and down the stair to the basement of the high-rise. The lifts were sectioned off since the artillery strikes on the building have sent a sizable amount of debris into the tubes, filling them. Thus the emergency stairways were the troopers' major medium up and down the hotel floors. Twist around another corner in the stairwell, the two came upon a door marked "Authorized Personnel Only". A small sign, though, had been tacked to under the label which said, "Aid Station", thus they went in. Carthar immediately received a nostril full of the sickly-sweet scent of bacta being administered to clones as lay upon scattered cots. The sarge was sitting atop one of the cots towards the rear of the room, his torso bare and back turned to Downs as he worked on the ARC. As the two got closer, they saw the medic had pried a blood chunk of durasteel with a thin pair of tweezers. He dropped the metal shrapnel into a dish and went to work on patching the elite up.

"_Ka'rta_! And Chappie, good!" Sarge Ram turned and smirked at two. The clone seem strangely sunny, see that he just had a metal bit yank out of his back, "I know you two are hungry, but Captain Burrs wants us to go out again after we all got some chow." At the word 'chow', Carthar's stomach groaned. The clone's appetite had return and the trooper frown at his abruptness. The ARC grinned and tapped his wrist against the young trooper's chest, "It takes a lot more than food to drop a true clone, _ner_ _vod'ika_."

Carthar's frown turned up. The sergeant had always tried to put the young trooper at ease, calling him what had meant "little brother" in Mandalorian. Chappie nudge his partner with his elbow, smirking with an eyebrow raised. The younger clone just narrowed his eyes at him, moving his lips in a visible, but silent curse. Before the clones knew it, the captain tread in from the conjoining room, trailed by Czar and a second paratrooper. Carthar this fellow standing squad-mates tensed up in a salute as Ram pulled himself up.

"Captain Burrs, sir..." The sarge greeted the CO, putting his hand to his temple in his own salute.

"Ram..." The captain preformed a quick salute and nod, signaling the clones to stand at ease, "The Grunts 're all present...?" The sergeant looked past his shoulder, finding that Saga had silently appeared next to their blond haired clone with a medical droid standing behind him. Turned back to Burrs, the ARC responded with a 'Yes, sir!' The CO frowned, "More like the remnant of the Grunts...like all the squads. You'll won't have to make do for long, anyway."

"Sir, are reinforcements finally come in?" The elite clone asked in a hope filled tone.

"General Kota himself is coming, with a heavy cruiser filled with militia. Skywalker's task-force annihilated Grievous' invasion fleet zero one hundred Galactic City time. The _Dauntless_ was dispatched from the group and sent to help the general on the Sanie's front. They should be arriving in a few hours."

Carthar could feel his mouth curl up into a big grin, as his repeating blaster partner hook the young trooper's neck in a small hug. They getting out there, being phased out and taking off the planet. A few the clones lying on the cots around the squad, who could not help but listen in, let whoops and whistles. Carthar saw one trooper lay back with arms behind his head and smirk on his face. The blanket atop of him ended at his mid-thighs, just like both his legs... ...

"Don't get too wilded up, now." Burrs said, try to remain serious, despite smiling, "We still need to clear out an area for the larties to land." The captain held up a holoprojector as imagine popped up from it. A miniature version of the city was formed, much of it set in a light blue hue, though, some of the imagine was red. Red meant Sanie control, "The gunships will need a long stretch of good, solid ground to land troops and armor. We're thinking Bothawui Avenue and Tal'cara Park..." The CO pointed to two areas on the holo, one along stretched between the buildings and the other a large square with lumps covering it. Both were still entirely blue, but offly close to the red, "These areas will need to be scouted before we can the LAAT's land. Lieutenant Czar will take the avenue with Kappa squad, while Gamma takes the park."

"The park will have a lot more place for snipers and mortars to hide, sir" The ARC retorted, "We'll need specialized equipment to get the job finished in time."

"That's why I assigned a tech from Zeta squad to the Grunts." The clone captain nudge his head to the unknown paratrooper to his left. The trooper stand to attention at his mention as Burrs went on, "He should be useful. He got top markets in training and has a understanding of all the Republic's top kit."

"There's one more matter, right sir?" The lieutenant reminded Burrs.

"Feehh... ..." The captain groaned as his face scrunched up, "There are reports...of spys...in the ranks on Kothlis..."

"Sir, **clone** spies??"

"That's what they say, Sergeant..."

Carthar blinked as the room fell silent. A clone spy, a trooper who would sell out his brothers for one reason or another...it just unthinkable! The young trooper had heard of the accounts of clones deserting and even clones devolving information after being captured and tortured, but a clone **willingly** betraying the GAR...you might as well say they the universe was going to explode tomorrow. Carthar looked at his ARC sergeant as he frowned, looking deep in thought. He seemed somehow more effected by the captain's proclamation than any of the other clones. Burrs scanned about the room as though he question if he should had reviled news of spies in front of the injured clones, see that they were suffering enough. Shaking his head, the clone captain returned to the sanctuary of his command center.

"Sergeant Ram, I'll need sometime to assemble Kappa..." Czar told to the elite clone, "We'll make preparations when your men have rested up."

"... ...Understood..." The ARC replied in a distant tone.

The lieutenant turned and trailed behind Burrs, leaving the new paratrooper with the clones. Carthar studied the trooper as he remained tensed up. His armor wasn't as clean as the young trooper's when first joined the Grunts, but it was too far off. He was no shinie, but he was the new guy, the new outsider. Carthar could related a little. It had taken an surprise attack that almost killed everyone to bond the young trooper with Gamma squad, he wondered what it would take for this paratrooper.

"You've got a name, Private?" The sergeant posed.

"Sir. CT-4400/1312 has given as my designation, sir."

"**Name**, not numbers, trooper."

"Three-Twelve, sir." Sarge Ram scratched his head, arching his brow at the paratrooper. Chappie nudge Carthar with is elbow... ...

"Makes you want to warm up to him, don't it..." The clone whispered to his partner. Carthar shrugged.

"Ok, ladies!" The ARC announced, "Go powdered their noses or whatever and we'll meet in an hour from now. O'seven hundred!"

"Yes, sir!"

The sarge sat back down on the cot and Downs once finished up his work on the clone. Saga faded away, somewhere, with medical droid and Three-Twelve marched off to the stairwell escape. Carthar and Chappie following, making their way to the mess area to eat the rest of their mysteries grounded meat lunch, but the new clone seem to climb a few more levels to some unknown location. The young trooper watch him continue climbing, wondering what he could be doing. Waved the thought from of his mind and pushed on to the dinning hall. He'll need to finish his meal before the mission started.

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Author's Note:Do you think this too short? Give me a break, if you think this too short. I will hunt you down if you think this is too short!

Review!!!


	4. Chapter 4

Note: I would like to see a few more reviews, like to know a few more people were reviewing this, and like a little feedback on the plot and such. Wishful thinking. Read & Review!!

Disclaimer: George Lucas, not him! Lucasarts and Lucasfilms, not them! I don't have the copyrights, but I don't expect to get paid for this. So come down. Star Wars is their baby, not mine.

* * *

"ETA...one point two three hours from Kothlis."

Look down at the white armored clad clone as he toiled away on a computer terminal, calculating speeds and distances, the lone figured atop the walkway silently confirmed the trooper's estimate. Decked in a pressed, green uniformed and a rank badge signifying a commander on his left breast, the officer turned and glanced out the panoramic of transparisteel as the phantasm of hyperspace rolled past. Twisting about, the commander crossed the raised deck to the adjacent crew pit as more clone troopers and clone officers went about the management of flying a "Star Destroyer", as Venator cruisers were coming to called.

"Commander Isibray..." The naval officer turned to see the grizzled Jedi General, Rahm Kota.

"Ah, General." Isibray replied, "Has the preparations for the reinforcing Kothlis got smoothly? I hope we haven't come all this way and find that the troopers can't be deployed when arrive."

"Nothing awry, Commander. Your services have helped considerably with the refits..." Kota eye moved to a pale uniformed clone advising a trooper as he read from a datapad, "... ...despite your _men_. The matter now is determining the LZ points planetside. We'll need to land **inside** the city, and from the reports, I gathered that the capital isn't made for massive troop deployments. Barely enough room for tanks and walkers. It's probably what saved our troops from being rolled over at the start, letting the struggling, tube-born clones hold out 'til now."

"Well, it appears that your _struggling, tub-born clones_ already thought this far ahead and just com in coordinates of landing gunships!" The commander smirked, knowing the steel faced Jedi was boiling inside, "Come this way, General."

Isibray ushered the Jedi back down the walkway to the conjoining chamber at the rear of the bridge. Officers and troopers buzzed about, reviewing tall grid maps and working over multicolored screens of data. At the center of the room was the medium sized hologram projection pod with a large, ghostly globe above it, created from the projector's light blue light. Major Tekshar was standing along side the holoprojector, dressed in her tactical vest and pads, her bright white swooping helmet under the major's arm. He gaze moved from the rotating globe to the closing general and commander.

"Sirs." Aasia greeted her superiors with a nod.

"Tekshar. Have the clones sent us anything more then just where to park?" The senior officer silently answered the question by slipping her hand over a few switches and buttons on the projection pod. The globe turned ninety degrees on to it's side, zoom in close to the surface to form a topographically accurate display of spanning city and the area around it.

"When the attack began, Sanyassan B-wings launched from the planet and took out of the defense and surveillance satellite network, so we're completely working from observations of the boots on the ground." The major pointed to a spot on the holo, a tall bump not too far from where the city bang, "This Sanies base of operations is this mountain..." Aasia clicked another button and image changed to detail an outline of the bump, transparent enough to see dozens of tiny cubes with little lines connecting, "The clone scouts using subterranean mapping scanners discovered a number off chambers hide just under the surface. With it, the Sanies were able to sit tight and wait without revealing there really numbers."

"The Sanyassan tried the same thick on Krant..." Kota related as he surveyed, fingers running over his short beard, "...but we gave them a little more they expected. Republic Intelligence actually did it's job for once and sent us intel on the enemies movements."

"Too bad the boys on Kothlis didn't receive such a advantage as well." The commander retorted with a accusing smile, blowing Kota's success back into his face. The Senior Jedi General was responsible for the whole sector, including Kothlis. Not informing Kothlis was more than a faux pas, it had threaten the system.

"General Grievous was scrambling Bothan transmissions from a hiding listening post-" The Jedi put forth in his defense, but Isibray cut him off... ...

"And when that listening post was destroyed by Skywalker, it was the **clones** who responded back with the crucial intel to take back the planet. Face it, General. You estimated our boys in white too much."

"Now just hold on!"

The major sighed as she watched her two ranking officers start to debate the effectiveness of clone troopers...again. It had been a **long** two hours since the general and her climbed aboard the _Dauntless_. They were two opposites with egos size of galaxies when it came to war. Kota was army, Isibray was navy. Kota saw victory in long campaigns, Isibray in swift fleet actions. The naval officer even disagreed with the Jedi's importance on the moment and his skepticism of the GAR's near total cloned presents, hold the clone army as best tool to under the war quickly. The some of their arguments were about the clones.

"...and it's hard for me to believe that they can fight for the Republic if with barely lived long enough to know what it's like live in it." The general continued his point of the argument, "They met as well fight to ensure the longevity of the **Hutt Empire**!!"

"They are living beings who will win out over the Confederacy's droid menace because they understand what cold, lifeless machine could never understand... that the Republic is beckon of hope and justice in the Universe."

"Oh! Tell me something that wasn't in one of Chancellor's speeches!!"

"**SIRS**!!!" Aasia finally bellowed over the pairs bickering. Isibray and Kota look back at the major, and then around the room. The clone troopers and officers had lost their attentions on their work and were watch the two officers from the corner of their eyes. The ranking commanders cleared their throats, the Jedi fold his arms in front of him where as the navy grasped his hands from behind his back. The major rubbed her temple as she sighed again, much more heavily, _Can't even the Jedi or the Navy make men act more like __**men**_? , Aasia asked herself as her migraine grew.

"...Maybe we should move along..." Commander Isibray said. The Jedi nodded quietly and Isibray directed a hand over the projector's controls. The holo returned to it's original globe form as the commander went on, "When arrive in the system, will make a b-line for the planet..." The hologram Kothlis was joined by a light blue replica of the _Dauntless_, it's dagger point moving close and close to the planet, "We'll launch squadrons of Torrents to wave off any enemy B-wings..." A few groupings of V-19 fighters appeared next to the holo cruiser and zoom to intercept the coming Sanyassan fighters. The enemy starfighters' hull was shaped like like a wing, soaring horizontally towards the Torrents. The crafts large weapons pod attached the bottom tip of the wing gave the fighter it's characteristic "b" form, "The _Dauntless_ well accelerated into the atmosphere and leave off the larties gunships, then move into a defensive orbit above the planet."

"It won't be need..." The general jumped in, the projections following Isibray's description while spoke, "The Sanies little fleet has already limped back to their base on Dressel, and the Separatists are still licking their wounds from Bothawui."

"It never hurts to be careful, General."

"Sirs? If you'd please..." The major hoped she didn't need to break the two up again.

"So it appears that all that's left is getting to the system, yes, Commander?" Kota stuck his fists on his hips and gnawed the inside of his mouth. Isibray battle plan was fast hitting and a little sloppy, but that's they needed to be quick to break through the Sanyassan lines and they had no time to smooth the edges, "If Kothlis is secured, then the Sanies will be cornered in Dressel system and we'll be one step closer to throwing the lot out of Bothan Space."

"Yes, and the Bothans can back to their neutral stance on the war, ignoring both sides... ..."

Aasia glance to either officer as they both scowled at what victory truly meant in Both. The Bothans hadn't been the only ones to pledge neutrality at the beginning of the war. The Selkath, the Callosians, and many other species and planets took no side at the start of the fighting. However, the Bothans' Spynet could not be overlooked by either the Confederacy or the Republic forever. Soon, the CIS allied themselves with the Sanyassan Privateers and encouraged the young security constructor to reach for tall goals than working for the sector's hyperspace lanes...like conquering the whole sector.

Whatever the reason it started, the Republics had no choice but to come to the assistance of the Bothans, though the Bothans never saw it that way. Protecting the sector had always been Bothans' duty, it was their space. So in a signed agreement, the Republic was to let the furry dog people act with autonomy and then remain neutral after the fighting was done in the sector. General Kota hated it, so did Isibray. It was only thing they agreed upon, as far as Tekshar knew.

"There's still a few arrangements to be made down below." The Senior Jedi General proclaimed and started for the doors, the major in tow.

"I'll keep you updated of any problems we might face, then, shall I?" The naval officer smirked out.

"Just don't miss that system!"

"Oh, yes. I won't."

G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G

In the all of Carthar's life, a decade or less, the young trooper never imagined himself down what he was doing right now. Touching the paper to his lips, the clone took a slow and steady inhale, receiving a mouth full of wisp. The first sense was a slight sting in the back of Carthar's throat, but it was overwhelmed as his brain began to pulsate with a peaceful pressure that washed down his body. The young trooper pulled the paper away as his mouth formed an "o" and gushed out a cloud of white smoke, waving about his head to settle in a orbital ring before it faded away. Carthar pushed the cigarra down to his repeating blaster partner, Chappie, as the clone sat on his bunk, which he took and inhaled a drag from the roll himself. The young trooper stuck his thumb into his belt and moved a step towards the barrack quarter's window. In actuality, it was the giant transparisteel portal of a royal suite in the Hotel Legacy five star resort. It was just another one of those weird consequences that happened in a galaxy wide war, though the clones hadn't the time or the appreciation for such oddities.

Outside, the heavens were still leaking. The rain spatted against the transparency, sliding down it's surface in a thousand lines, as the sky grow blacker and blacker. The Grunts' scouting mission was planned as night op to use the dark as their cover, though that meant one thing to Gamma Squad...waiting. If it there was one thing that could drive a soldier to the edge it was waiting on pins and needles to begin an op. Everything that could possible go awry in a mission quietly invaded the mind, filling it full of images of mangled limbs, scrapped off flesh, skin with protruding bones , and that big one...rioting bodies of the dead. Carthar personally kept picturing his clone _vod_, Pro, lying in the middle of that juggle clearing, with large chunks of his helmet and head blasted away.

_Ending up in that bed in the med station is probably worst_, The young trooper thought in silence, _To never wake up...unable to help your brothers in the fight...to be totally useless. And I was the one who did it to him... ..._

Carthar suddenly felt a tap to his side, to which he turned to look. Chappie was holding up cagarra to him, smoke slowly billowing out the side of his mouth. Taking the roll with a nod and a smile, the young trooper breathed gentle from it, since it was the last cigarra they had between the two clones. It had turned into something of game, rationing the cigarra puffs to make them last while still working to get a little buzz from the roll. It was better then thinking about bad fortunes and comatose friends, all the clones had something. Carthar twisted his site around to the rest of the Grunts as they preoccupied themselves with this and that. Downs was arm deep in his medical backpack, check through all the life saving kit he had for some possible problem with it. Spread out across his bunk, Saga disassembled his DC-15a right down to the pin-joints. The young trooper had done such, himself, with his T-21repeater a few times, but for the older clone it was his over his twentieth. Two new paratroopers to the squad, Lucky and Sol, were sitting at a table that situated in the middle of the room, fiddling around this parts from their Deeces. They were temporarily assigned to Gamma from 2nd Airborne Company to help fill out the Grunts until new recruits came. At the corner of the table sat Sergeant Ram, engrossed in some datapad display, Carthar speculated it was the mission brief. Glancing to new squad tech, Three-Twelve he assisted on be called, the young trooper raised a brow as the clone marched over to the sarge and tensed up in a salute... ...

"Sergeant Alpha-zero-six, sir." Three-Twelve related in perfect Basic annunciation, no word mispronounced, through his HALO's speaker. He was the only one where his helmet, "May I have permission to speak freely?"

"No." The tech jerked his head back slightly, taken aback from the ARC's answer. The elite clone looked up at Three-Twelve, "...not until you call me Sarge Ram. I've haven't been called _Alpha-zero-six_ since was a short lad on Kamino...and even then, only when I got the Kaminoans where mad. Makes me feel like I've done something wrong. At the very least, Sergeant _Ramikadu_ would more preferable."

"Sergeant _Ramikadu_, then..." Carthar blinked as the clone expertly said the commando's name, something he and many others had be struggling with for some time, "May I have permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted." The sarge smirked as Three-Twelve went on... ...

"I would like transfer from Twenty-Eighth Parachute Infantry Regiment to Coruscant's Homeworld Security Command after we get evacuated. I feel that it would be best place for me to make a difference."

Sarge Ram studied the tech, up and down, with a scrutinizing eye. The clone was had remain rigid after his salute, becoming a white iron pole that just appeared in the middle of their quarters. A look crossed the ARC's face, like that of a spiritual revaluation, a calm yet definitive realization. Ram stared ahead, through the walls and pass the atmosphere, right to the edge of the universe.

"...Ok, Twelve..." The sergeant said without looking up at the clone, "You can have your _transfer_. I don't normal like discussing this things before mission starts, makes me feel like the squad is burst up before we get out the door, but if you feel so strongly... ..."

"I do, sir. Thank you."

Carthar watched as Three-Twelve walked back to his bunk, plopped down on it, and then removed his helmet. The young trooper found it a bit dispiriting to lose a squad mate before he got to know the clone. Taking a glance to the sarge, Carthar found that he too was put off by Three-Twelve's request, though his thoughtful gaze towards the tables surface seemed alighted to a deeper train of mind. Glancing back to Chappie, the younger clone offered the cigarra to continue their little ritual. Chappie, however, smiled and shook his head, his hand reaching across the bed and retrieving a large, clear plastoid bag filled to the brim with goodies. The two clones had raided the hotel's kitchen and had found all sorts of cookies, sweet biscuits, crackers, cakes, and even have finished pot roast... they didn't put that in the bag. The clone started to munch as Carthar step over to Three-Twelve. The clone tech look up from clean his Deece to the young trooper... ...

"Did you want to finish this off?" Carthar posed as held the tabac roll up. Three-Twelve frowned as he glared at the smoldering cigarra.

"Don't you know those kill you?" The tech said in a dry, matter-of-fact tone.

"Ha...yeah, I know." The young trooper smiled. Three-Twelve did, though, it really was a joke for him. Dropped his hand and his smile, but kept on with the kindness attacks, trying to get ice broken between the two of them, "So...I guess you most of been in the Airborne for sometime, at least longer then me. I got on board the day the attack started. Nice timing, huh!"

"Yeah..." The clone went back to clean, "I've been paratrooper for a month now."

_A __**month**__?! And he's begging for a transfer!! _Carthar had hard time believe what he was hearing. With amount of time it took to train a clone paratrooper, it seemed to be a waste to just leave for a completely different service, _Had all the fight wear down on him? Maybe he got somebody hurt like I did to Pro... ..._

"A month, huh?" The younger clone continued with friendly attitude, hoping push to deeper, "All that time at Jump School and you want jump out now...was the food that bad??"

"Is it really that important."

"I guess it isn't... ... But don't you want to use what you training to do? Take the fight to the Seps and their tinnie army?? What's Homeworld Security go need a paratrooper for anyway?"

"I don't know, maybe I'll jump down some senator's throat if he gets out of line. I don't see how it's any of your buisness."

"Hey...I don't mean anything by it..."

Three-Twelve didn't reply, he just kept cleaning his blaster, checking the primer mechanism as he went. Carthar didn't press it. Turning back walk back to Chappie, the clone put the cigarra between his lips and took a long drag, letting the nicotine wash his thoughts away. As he neared his partner, Chappie offered the young trooper a cracker from his bag-o-food. Carthar flicked the burning end off his cigarra and placed it in a belt pouch, hoping to finish it later with Chappie, before taking the clone's cracker.

"Not the friendliest of brothers, huh?" The young trooper's partner related as Carthar bit into the cracker in hand. It had the elusive sweet taste of honey, add with just the enough amount of salt. The younger clone wolfed down the wafer and was rewarded by Chappie with another, "I can never understand troopers like him, never happy where they were bred to be. Like their trying to find some purpose in there lives when it already set right in front us."

"Civvies do it..." Carthar replied with mouth full of confections while pulling out more from the bag.

"Yeah...well, there birth-born. They don't have luxury of a maker to tell them who they are."

"...What about...the sarge?"

"What about him?"

"You know..." The young trooper point his thumb to Ram as he took big swallow, revealing him of the food in this mouth, "Hello! The kama and the pauldron! Remember, the sarge was an ARC commando. He transferred here, right."

"The sarge? He's a good leader and fighter, that's not in questioned, but way would he want to leave the ARCs for anyway?"

The pair's conversation had turned down to a hush whisper between the two of them. It was risky to talk about a NCO's personal life while right in front of him, not to mention rude, though Chappie had made a good point. From the elite clone's armor markings, he was a lieutenant in the Advance Recon Commandos and now he was just a sergeant, one rank down. And if it wasn't for climbing the ranks, it sure wasn't for action. Being a paratrooper was no desk duty on Coruscant, but with Special Operations sending the ARCs across the galaxy to attack key Separatist fixtures and starting insurrections on enemy held planets one did not yearn for a better battle.

_Then what made the sarge want to throw away his rank and join us normal _vode_?_

"Ok, ladys!!" Sergeant Ram suddenly shouted, pulling his HALO on and grabbing his WESTAR, "We've got a date with a few entrenched Sanie in a romance, bombed-out park."

Carthar trooped over his bunk, right next to his repeater blaster partner's, as Chappie stuffed the plastiod bag between the side of the wall and his cot. The younger clone quickly slipped his helmet on and dumped a couple clips of ammo in his belt. Saga and the two temps, who's picked apart Deeces where quickly reassembled within a few seconds, jumped up and geared up. Three-Twelve had his assortment of scanners and track devices attached around his belt, ready to map the world in precise detail. Downs and Chappie simultaneously donned their backpacks, one filled with precious lifesaving kit and the other with half a cubic meter of deadly plasma, respectively. The young trooper grasped his light repeating blaster and move to encircle the ARC sarge, along with the rest of the squad. Ram twist his head about, surveying the clones with their weapons and kit, Carthar and his partner with power cables hanging from their necks. The elite clone nod once, place a hand on one hip and his rifle butt on the other.

"Now that we're all gussied up, I wanted to say something to all new lads..." Sol and Lucky stood tall, giving all their attention to the sarge. The clone tech, however, remain un-phased, "When go out their, we're not going out there as CT-so-and-so from this squad or that company. We're Gamma Squad...we're **the Grunts**. We fight together and go home together. It doesn't matter what we're planning to do later..." The ARC glance to Three-Twelve, "...because this mission is too important. We're clearing the path for last hope to save every clone and Bothan on his planet."

"Sir, we all do respect..." Lucky began as the sarge turned to him, "General Kota is far from the _last hope_ for clones like us. He'll probably start bombarding the ground under us the minute he gets into orbit!"

"Do you really believe that, trooper? Or do you just like spreading rumors for gossip sake... ..."

Sarge Ram trod up to clone and stared at him through his visor, sending a glared down at him. They were the same height, of course, but just at that moment Lucky seemed to shrink under his presence. The out-ranked trooper broke the stare first, swinging his head to the ground. The sergeant never took defiance lightly, and everyone who tried to take a stance against him were knocked to the dirty. Carthar remembered the ARC taking that to a literal sense to Saga.

"Grunts! Let's move out!!"

The clones trooped out of the room in heart beat, rushing down the hall to the staircase that lead down to the lower floors of the hotel. Move down pass the lobby, to the basement levels, the squad came upon the med station door. Pushing through it and across the chambers of coughing and bandaged troopers, Carthar catch a glimpse of the clone medic, Uncle, treating a bedridden man with a large amount of dressings around his head. It was Pro. The young trooper watched while moving as Uncle fiddled with a fallen clone's IV drip, a pit of guilt forming in Carthar's stomach. From behind, Chappie's hand tapped the younger clone's back, tell him that he was here. He knew Carthar's struggle and he was going to stand with his brother. All this in a simple two taps on his partner's back.

As the clones moved past the med station they reached another door, much more durable looking then the last, with it's durasteel construction and heavy hinges. A large wheel, paint red, was set at the middle of door which left the impression as a locking mechanism. The clone trooper next to the door confirmed the idea, moving over to the wheel and turning the device with evident effort. The sound of metal scrapping, **screeching** flowed from the door in a powerful decibels. The trooper then pulled back, throwing all his weight into it, swinging the mighty door open. Carthar could see way the clone struggled. The door's width was easily the length of his arm! The squad bused through the cleared doorway, the sarge being the last to go through and the gave the clone trooper a nod. He returned the nod and started to heave the durasteel door back into place, then secured it with loud _clank_. The Grunts were past the point of no return.

The young trooper surveyed the chamber they had come into. He found Lieutenant Czar and Kappa Squad waiting patiently in the middle of area, the faintly lit glowrods laid scattered around them. They numbered just a few clones shy of a full squad, just like Gamma. Looking up, Carthar followed how the ceiling rounded into the wall and how the wall rounded into the floor. They were in a giant cylinder, with a some stream passing through the middle. Their ARC sergeant moved past the rest the squad and presented himself before Czar, preforming a quick salute as identify their presence... ...

"Gamma Squad, ready for your command, sir!"

"It's nice to see you, Sergeant Ram." The clone officer related before turning to the squad, "Men...this is the mission that will define the battle..." The lieutenant began a little speech to galvanize the troops...but...seeing that the sarge had already spelled the whole situation out in the barracks, Czar's words had little of the effect he might have wished. Carthar blanked out most of what the clone was saying. Instead, the young trooper's focus was on the officer's personal defense weapon. CO's and NCO's both had the luxury of choice none standardized Republic equipment and the lieutenant had chosen a Golan Arms FA-2 flechette launcher. The FA-2 fired canisters containing hundreds of razor-sharp flechettes, durasteel darts that spread out over the large area. It was perfect weapon against "wet" targets, like Sanie infantry. Czar started sound as though he was ending, Carthar started listen again, "...and with innocent Bothans on the line, I can not stress the importance of team work on this mission. So, stay sharp and follow orders."

"What's are plan of attack, sir?" The ARC inquired.

"We'll embark to our zones through these sewer tunnels, they run right under both sites. Our scouts were able to map the tunnels throughout the fighting, so we have a pretty good idea where we're going. Some the tunnels are flooded very badly, so don't try to move through them. We can move around them easily enough." The clone officer gestured to one his squad to move over to him. The paratrooper precipitated, hauling a large bag under his arm, "Private Niner, here, will give each of you two thermal detonators. You will use them against the enemy's positions, their trenches and hold up house. Hopefully, the Sanyassans won't be at either location and you won't need to use them."

Each trooper got their detonators and head out, push off down the tunnel to clear the LZ and with some luck end the grueling fighting for Kothlis. Soon the clones were knee deep in water that smelled like... ...well, it was definitely a sewer. Carthar had his T-21 leveled across his chest, fearful of what the nasty liquid would do the repeating blaster. Most of the other clones had the same idea, some even held their weapons above their heads. The temp trooper Sol, who was issued a RPS-6 rocket launcher and Deece, struggled the most. As the squads continued through the sludge, they commanders suddenly halted and both held up their fists to tell the clones to do the same.

"This tunnel here leads to the Bothawui Avenue." The lieutenant point of to his left, where a massive hole, a dark void in wall. Even looking through tunnel with is image enhancing HUD, Carthar could barely see past three meters down it's length, "Your path continues down this tunnel, Sergeant."

"Right, sir."

"It might be best to reconfirm the laser beacons codes, again." Czar pulled out a device with a long probe protruding from it. The clone officer activated the device and the probe started to flash red. Ram withdrew a identical device and activated it as the lieutenant spoke, "This beacon is set as six-niner-four-two... ..."

"Mine has one-one-three-eight, Lieutenant. Three-Twelve, can you confirm that with Command?"

"... ..." The young trooper looked to the silent clone tech for an answer. But Three-Twelve continued to hold a hand to the side of his HALO and said nothing. His head seem to bob slight, as though he was speaking, which meant he was talking to the Command Center on a secure comlink channel. After a few seconds, the tech related, "Confirmed, sirs. Six-niner-four-two and one-one-three-eight... Plus the captain wises us the best of the Force."

"Right, let's get moving along. Kappa!! On me!" Czar started off down the left passage, Kappa Squad trooping after him, leaving the Grunts by themselves on mission that left little room off error.

Carthar couldn't let himself miss up like he did with Pro... ...

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Conferring with his clone officers on the bridge of the _Dauntless_, Commander Isibray was preparing for last minute checks of exiting hyperspace. If his calculations were correct, which they always are, the ship should re-enter realspace just on the other side of Kothlis' asteroid field. Isibray's clone lieutenant, Dorr, handed the naval senior a datapad with a checklist of every minor system that needed a closed or tightening or rearranged. Left unchecked, the _Dauntless_ would face a severe fate, like accelerating out of hyperspace straight into the planet...or just plain blowing up. The list had a go on all the checks, giving the green-light to exit lightspeed.

"Prepare for the jump back to realspace!" The commander trumpeted, the crew pits around him a flurry of troopers and officers movements. The phantasm of blues outside the large transparisteel viewports morphed into a stretches of lights, then again to black spread of stars. Several great globes stood transfixed in the star field, the largest that filled up the entire of the left most section of the viewports was Kothlis, itself. Isibray slowly walked across raised walkway, Lieutenant Dorr right beside him, and gazed at the colossal blue ball, "Amazing site... ..."

"What's that, sir?" Dorr asked, wondering if his senior officer was talking to him.

"A planet his amazing thing, Dorr, especial from orbit. People these days don't seem to appreciate that."

"I would image because most see them everyday, Commander."

"It more than just the appearance, Lieutenant... They're nature starships!" The clone noticed a gleam in Isibray eye as he spoke, "Think of how it be to command a vessel so self-sufficient that it could feed and house it's crew, _indefinitely_. Fleets of equally impressive satellite planets following as the course of the universe, an invincible battle cruiser! Not even entire armada could destroy it. **Nothing** could!"

"If you say so, sir." The commander looked over to Dorr and smiled at the clone, with pity. He was good first officer, Isibray would surmise, but still as unimaginative as many clones were. He patted Dorr on the shoulder and turned the clone trooper at sensor station... ..

"Long-range scanners, report."

"No fighters on screen, Commanderr-" The trooper leaned back, hands gripping the around the terminal, as he made a double-take at the screen, "Two frigate type vessels coming around from third moon!!!"

"What?!" Isibray flew over to the clone trooper down in the crew pit, "Could they be the two Acclamators transports we for relieve work??"

"IFF hasn't identify them and I'm not familiar with is capital ship class, sir." The naval senior bent down to the terminal screen, waving his hand of a few controls to better enhance the display of the mystery ships' hull configuration. Isibray froze, "Sir?"

"...Ymir-class bombardment ships..." The trooper slightly tilted his head to the side, then looked to the display again. One of the frigates had started to form a bright ball of light very tip it's bow, as it position itself as though it was aiming at... ... The commander stood straight up and bellowed across the bridge, "All starboard thrusters at full!!! HARD TO **PORT**!!!!!"

The moment Isibray threw out his command, a beam of crimson shot from the Ymir-class, quickly crossing the distance between two vessels. The _Dauntless_ lurched to one side, the whole bridge staff stumbling to their rights, as the beam got closer and closer. But it wasn't fast enough. The crimson mega-laser past under the right side of the viewports and was followed by a huge explosion that shook the ship and caused crew to jump up and fall to the ground. At least one clone trooper was sent flying in the air to the other side of the bridge, from where Isibray was standing.

"Blast it all!!" The commander shouted, "Full power to forward shields! Give me a damage report!!"

"Number two and one engines are damaged. Decks C, F, and G on the right tower are all reporting hull breaches." Dorr's voice was much more sober and calm than his ranking officer, though the panic was still clear, "D and E decks are not reporting in..."

"By the Force, itself..."

Down in the main hanger the _Dauntless_, General Kota and Major Tekshar were dashing across the deck. Clones and militiamen raced around them, chasing loose equipment and securing steaming pipes. The two neared a comlink terminal on a far wall and the Jedi smashed on the bridge-call button... ...

"Commander Isibray!!" The general exclaimed into the com receiver, "What in hell is going on?!"

"We came out of hyperspace and were ambushed by Sanyassan Privateer vessels, sir!" A clone voice answered in the commander's stead.

"Sanies! What are you saying, clone!!"

"Two Ymir-class frigates attacked before we could start military maneuvers, sir. We're barely keeping out of their fire now!"

Kota scowled down at the deck under his feet, biting the inside of his mouth. The general had bet on system to be clear and now they were in a knife fight with two heavily armed capital ships...with a limp. No doubt Sanie B-wings were coming to finish what the Ymirs started. A fleeting thought stepped across the Jedi's mind, pull out. Cut their losses before they doubled, prevent Kothlis from become another Jabiim. Or worst, another Duro. It was grim prospect and the reality of it happen piled up in Kota's mind, clenching at his throat. Though, only for a moment. The Senior Jedi knew the fate of Kothlis, the whole sector even, would turn out worst then Duro if they did nothing.

"Aasia, have you been to Bogden?" The general inquired, soldiers still rushing about around the two. The petite major stared at Kota as though he asked her bark like a sick dog.

"Sir, is this the time-" Tekshar tried, but the Jedi continued over her.

"On Bogden we have these little spiders, with looong legs. Their thin things, don't require a lot of force to kill them, so you can imagine a young boys taking a little pleasure in smashing and torturing the things. The cruelty of children and that. I did it number of times myself as child, killing and drowning them. During the war, our trenches were crawling with those spiders. I mostly ignored them by then, being older and all, but one day was different. I remember that day clear, I always will, since it was the first day I shoot a man and the first day I watched a man. He groaned for hours before he stopped. Anyway, I was sitting in my a trench and saw one those little spiders moving around a one of the open boxes of ammunition. I was then compelled to save it, since any other soldier would have swat it dead and go on with life. I thought...maybe if I can save just one small life, just one, I could prove a soldier is more just a those who kill and get killed on a battlefield. Something more... ..." The Senior Jedi General had a stone sober expression on his face, but Aasia knew the how hard it had been to talk about the war on his homeworld. This wasn't a little subject for Kota.

"What happened to the spider?"

"It run from me at first!" The Senior Jedi smiled, "Ha! Thousands of years of humans killing their kind taught it fear a giant hand coming at it. I actually tore off one it's thin legs. I go mad at it. Why did it run, I asked, I was getting it out of that hell hole. I kept trying and after another leg came off, I caught it and put it on a tree a few meters away. I like to think that even if I harmed the thing, I still saved it's life. But in the end, I realized that if we never came to fight in that field, none of the spiders there would have soldiers swat at them. And if we never put troops on Kothlis, we would never had to protect the Bothans their. But we did, and we can't back away." Kota looked the major straight in the eye, confidence and fire pour from his gaze, "I'm fighting, Aasia. Even if I have to take the planet by myself. I'm fighting."

The Jedi's blaze spread to Tekshar and the senior officer nodded in full agreement. Then the pair dashed away, separating to individual destinations across the main hanger. The major called out of the chaos of the hanger, pulling militiamen from minor tasks and into a gunships, filling them. Soon half the total forty larties were ready for deployment, the other transports carrying the AT-TEs and TX-130 Saber tanks, and Aasia moved the lead LAAT helmeted and armed with her blaster cannon. Meanwhile, General Kota moving to the starboard hanger.

"You two clone pilots." The Senior Jedi related in booming voice, commanding the two specially armored troopers, rather than asking.

"Sir! At your command!"

"You are to come with me. Will need to make a path to planet for the gunships."

"Sir, Command Isibray hasn't clear the launch of fighters."

"You worry about getting your squadrons ready..." Kota retorted as he trooped along, "I'll worry about the clearance."

"Yes, General!"

The Jedi strode to the far end of the hanger where a lone starfighter sat on it's landing struts. An angled Delta-7B, it was rather unimpressive with it's plain dark blue solid skim. Most Jedi pilots took to personalizing their fighters with dazzle paint, to help camouflage in atmospheres, and meaningful emblems, used to psychic out the enemy in a dogfight. Kota like color blue...sorta...he guessed. The Senior Jedi General didn't put much thought into a craft he barely used. In fact, if the general hadn't the Force on his side, he would probably be the worst pilot in the whole Republic. However, those tiny midi-chlorians gave most Jedi the edge in space, Kota included. Just don't last him to land by himself...it was his third starfighter.

"Astro droid..." At the general word, the round droid head near the center of the craft swerved it's optics towards the Senior Jedi, answering him in beeps and whistles, "Start launch check, prepare for battle."

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_I would learn later that while I was mocking around the sewers, Master Jedi Rahm Kota and his forces were fighting to stay alive. The Sanyassans had really thrown them off, nearly blasting the whole cruiser as they jumped into the system. Over one thousand clones and birth-born naval officers died in that first attack. They died so we could live, then die in some other battle._

_That was war._

_We would soon find out that those thousand weren't the last to die on the last day at Kothlis. Not by far... ..._

_

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_Author's Note: Review!


	5. Chapter 5

Note: It is...2010. I'm...sleepy... So when you review, take the mistakes with a grain of salt. Read & Review!

Disclaimer: George Lucas is the owner of the trademarked STAR WARS...everything. The lucky S.O.B.

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**Glory!**

**One indomitable heart, Brothers all.**

**We, the wrath of Coruscant, Brothers all.**

**...Forged like the saber in the fires of death, Brothers all.**

_Those are just a few translated lines from _Vode An_, a Mandalorian war chant, converted by Jango Fett and the _Cuy'val Dar_, our Mando training sergeants. But it was more than that to us clones. "Brothers all", that was the truth. Truth of every squad, every company, every corner of the Grand Army of the Republic. Every private, lieutenant, and commander are brothers, by our blood and by our souls._

_However, brothers were still individuals._

_The toll of the Clone Wars weighted down on us, many _vode_ were left broken and hopeless. The Republic kept push us forward, more and more, leaving us little in return of consideration. One anonymous clone was commented on the Holonet, joking that GAR clone forces were "__**slaves all**__" in the Senates eyes. Many took that to heart and did the one thing a slave always dreams of... ..._

_Running..._

_Some defectors escaped, others didn't. But personal freedom wasn't enough for some clones, not with all their brothers still in Republic irons. The Seps, seeing a good prospect for their war-effort, jumped on defector clones' family loyalties and promised liberty in exchange for staying in the Republic armed forces... ...as spies. The clone fifth column was proof the dark side's allure. The Jedi said they were our "Lost Brothers". But they were lower than scum in the clone ranks, and when we found one we showed them our brotherly love __**far**__ away from our commanders, where the screams couldn't be heard._

_We __**are**__ our brothers' keepers, and judges and juries and executioners... ..._

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Knifing through the dark void of space, one hundred thousand kilometers from the planet Kothlis, two flights of V-19 Torrents kept an eye over a group of LAAT gunships a little ways from them. It was the first of many groups of fours and fives that the flights would need to escort to the planet's atmosphere, as their brother V-19s held off enemy B-wings. The _Dauntless_, the Torrents' mothership and only support, was pushing with every once of thrust she had as long crimson beams danced around the Star Destroy. It wasn't too fast, however, as the first beam of the attack sliced through two of her engines. A large column of smoke poured out of from the side of the cruiser's tower, a produce of the pair of Ymir freighters' starting blows, reflecting reds and blues as the starships shot turbolaser blasts at each other.

"Twenty minutes to atmo..." The lead V-19 clone pilot announced over the comlink, "Then another twenty minutes for the larties to reach the city. We should be able to get another group to atmo by then."

"Sir! Bogey coming in at five o'clock!!" The cry from the clone's helmet was from his flights number four man, Fi-Oh, "I go IFF... ... It's Copper Leader!"

The lead pilot looked down at his scanner screen as a green blip slid towards the flight of four green blips and formed up on the far right fighters wing. Stretching his head to look out the canopy's rear back, the clone pilot caught a glimpse of a navy blue arrow of a starfighter, zoom along side Fi-Oh. Copper Leader...General Rahm Kota.

_For a Jedi, he's waggling a lot_, The lead clone pilot thought with little concern.

"Copper Leader to Yellow Leader, responded." The clone shook his head and gathered himself before answered.

"Yellow Leader here. At your command, sir."

"Report status."

"Fifteen to drop off, sir. Thirty to get the next group going. It's a milk-run, sir."

"Well, those gunships aren't milk trucks, Yellow..." The general practically growled into the com, "Those are filled with my men. Keep the flies off their asses."

"Yes, sir-" From in his fighter, Kota heard the clone pilot himself off in a somewhat odd fashion. A moment later, the Yellow Leader would shout why, "Sir! Bogeys coming in on the larties' six!" The Senior Jedi General craned his head around, looking over his shoulder to see a large group of fighters moving fast towards the LAATs' rear in a square-ish formation. There in eight rows of eight, sixty four in all, and painted in dark blues.

"Their V-19s from the Boat!" A clone called over the comlink. Kota wonder if it was Yellow Leader, but it seem to stupid of comment for a squadron leader, even a clone one. It was obvious what they were... ...

"Vulture droid starfighers!!"

"Sir, I thought this planet was Sanie held?" That sounded like Yellow Leader.

"There must be a Sep carrier in the nearby..." The Jedi watched as the entire first row of the square launched missiles. Before he knew it, the formation of rockets ran into the trailing LAAT, vaporizing it in a huge fireball, "Call the _Dauntless_ and break to attack!!"

As Kota finish, he pulled back on the throttle to slow his fighter back from the flight. Then he slammed it forward and yanked the stick into the left thigh, causing the Delta to flip over the two flights of Torrents. Reaching the other side, the general leveled out and swooped down on the square formation, blaster cannons flaring. Ember shimmers cutting into the first and second rows of the Vultures, exploding several droid fighters as the rest scattered. Kota pulled his nose up and leveled on the gunships path. The LAATs were still racing for the planet, hauling militiamen and tanks to Kothlis' capital city, along with Major Tekshar. That was Senior Jedi rubbing off on Aasia, since he would have been on the first transport down if this...**insanity** had not happened.

Suddenly, the general's Force senses jumped up to red and the Jedi pulled the fighter into skid to the left. The next second a hail of crimson shimmers sailed down right where Kota had been, followed by a Vulture as it over-shot and then pulled up to the LAATs. General Kota would have none that. The Jedi throttled forward and chased after the droid, trying to push in close and scary the fighter away from the gunships, fearing to fire in the midst of the transports. From where he was, the general saw the Vulture's droid head pick up and turn to view him with it's glow red eyes, before it sped forward through the LAAT group. Kota continued the chase, grinding his teeth as he swerve inches away from slicing his wings into the gunships.

The two fighters, cat and mouse, moved past the group and rocketed down into the atmosphere of the planet. The Senior Jedi bobbed a little in the cockpit as his defense shield took the brunt of the entry. Soon, the gray cloudy skies replaced star filled black as the Vulture droid continued to dive. Free of the LAATs, the general smirked and sent a stream of green blaster cannon down at the starfigher, his pipper telling the Jedi to pull up and then a bit down to score the hit. The Vulture banked to the right as Kota push forward, over-shooting before he was aware of it.

_Blast, this why I hate sky and space fighting!_ The Senior Jedi thought, heatedly, as he leveled out, _Give me some mud to march on._

Kota glanced about, through his canopy, desperate to find the droid fighter before it's guns found him. Then, a gleam from straight ahead caught his attentions. The Vulture!! The Jedi banked right as a few blaster shots hit the bottom of his fighter, smashing a couple holes into the airframe. Quickly following in with a turn, the general pulled in on the droid's six o'clock, but it barreled over and dove before Kota got a lock on it. Repeating the barrel himself, the Jedi dove down after him, once again cannons blazing. The Vulture pulled up sharply and climbed back up into the sky, the Senior Jedi General following. Just as Kota nosed up, the droid was coming down at him with a blasters roaring. The Jedi broke right and swore, pushing his throttle up into the climb. No droid starfighter was that maneuverable, at least not a Vulture. A new service pack, maybe?

Kota was in it now. He could not bug out and head back up to space, the droid would be on his rear in no time. So it was fight or die...just the normal, everyday occurrence of a Jedi general. Rolling over and diving, Kota restarted the chase of cat and mouse. The Vulture pulled and climbed up and as the Senior Jedi followed, it happened again. The droid swooped with hail of red shots and Kota broke and climbed. It continued like that several more times, dragging the dogfight on for seventeen minutes, and diving closer and closer to the planet's surface.

Finally, as the cat and mouse pair reached hundred or so meters from the ground, the Vulture leveled out and pushed forward. Kota locked on the droid's tail, zoom above tree tops in a high-speed chase after the Sep fighter. Four hundred meters from the Vulture, the Jedi prepared to take his shot, letting the pipper guide him. Suddenly, the general's Force senses flared, warning him of danger. Kota looked over his shoulder and out the canopy and his eyes widen. To his horror, an another Vulture was diving towards him, reading to fire. In that moment, the general came to a stunning realization. He there was _another_ Vulture, the Jedi was never fighting one droid. He was fighting two... ...

"Blast it all!! I hate flying!!!" Kota exclaimed.

Unable to diving that close to the deck and the Vulture to close to break out without being over turned by it, the Jedi trusted his feels and pulled up. Pushing the stick over, Kota's fighter rolled over in the air as droid passed under him. Looking up (down) through the canopy, the Senior Jedi was sure he saw the Vulture's droid head shake a couple times, as though it was double-taking. Rolling back on the droid's six o'clock, pipper on the target and locked on, Kota sneered.

"Payback."

An ember storm rammed into the rear Vulture, sent flames across it's surface. The smoke and bits of debris fell in a trail behind it as the droid went spinning down into the forest canopy. No balls of fire like in the holovids, just a great trembling of the trees as Vulture smashed apart and sank down below the foliage. Kota pushed the throttle to the firewall, rocketed ahead. The skies were clear, no Vulture droids. Had it the tin head fighter bug out of the atmosphere? The general scanned the about him. Suddenly a black dot appeared up above him, a starfigher moving away. Kota picked the nose up and accelerated to the dot, placing the pipper on target.

"Have you know..." The Jedi's console immediate started to buzz and bleep. Look down at it, the Senior Jedi realized that it wasn't the other Vulture, but friendly V-19 identified by IFF as Yellow Four: Five-One. Kota snickered and called over the comlink, "Clone, where's your flight!"

"Up in space, Copper Leader." The pilot replied, somewhat unsteady, "I chased a droid fighter down here, sir."

"...Yes, join the club..." Forming up with Fi-Oh, the Senior Jedi General click and switched his control to command the astromech to start repair what damage it could to the Delta, "Yellow Four, stay on me. We're heading back up to space. We need to get the next group of gunships planetside, ASAP. You hear me?!"

"Copy that, sir."

As the two fighters climbed higher and higher, the general's thoughts rested on arrival of the Separatist forces. In the five days in that the attack had started, this was only the second encounter with the Seps in space and the first where they were directly helped the Sanyassans, and they had all but lost this sector. Some wasn't right and it all gave Kota a bad feeling... ...

The Jedi lifted his hand from the stick and slapped his forehead, gritting his teeth violently. He hated that line.

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Bothawui Avenue of Kothlis' capital city the oldest north-south main thoroughfare in Tal'cara, dating to the first Bothan settlement of the system. Since before the first stones were laid onto the road, it had been the hub of Kothlis' life, the main artery of every heart of every Bothan on the planet. It's history was Kothlis' history, animal trail to trading path, merchants row to theatre district. Bothawui Avenue wide lanes easily held the processions of heavy speeder traffic , never become over congested, and the dozens of crosswalks and pavements allowed even the most timid of strollers to transverse with little difficulty. The grand center piece of it all was a tall fountain in the middle of the 38th Street intersection, with it's large spire pierce up ten meters surrounded by statues of Bothan forefathers.

It had all change... ...

The roads were cratered. The walkways had crumbled. Century old buildings had been pulverized by round after round of Sanyassan artillery, converting their temple-like grandeur into a piles of rubble and dirt. And whoever might have had misfortune of being in Bothan culture center during the shelling...well, they had their own personal mausoleum now. Whatever speeders and transports that were on the avenue had being deformed into twisted nightmares of durasteel and class. Some had even been throwing around in the artillery attacks, bouncing off the remaining standing buildings like child's rubber ball being thrown against the wall. A few hadn't bounced and now dozens of charred speeder chassis poked out of the side of temple facades, swoop engines sticking out several stories up.

The central fountain was the saddest of all the sites. It's Bothan statues were riddled with holes from shrapnel and the occasional pop-shot of passing Sanie troops. Some the figures were dismembered and decapitated, some toppled over. The fountain's basin had gashes tore through it's side, leaving the bowl drained of it's once gallons of crystal clear waters. Only a centimeter or two muddy puddles was left in the basin, matching the road craters' and cracks' the dirty water lakes and channels, continuously being filled by the drizzling rain.

A few meters from the fountain, a small movement disturbed the stillness of the scene. Suddenly, a round plate of brown metal jerked up from middle of a crosswalk and slid over to the side in painfully loud scraps of pavement against durasteel. A manhole cover, one that sealed the lower reaches of the underground sewers to the surface. As the cover was moved aside, a triple-barreled blaster popped up from the unsealed hole, followed by the white and red faceplate of a paratrooper HALO helmet. Lieutenant Czar quickly pulled himself out of the manhole and preceded to check the immediate area, throwing flechette launcher about him as the clone officer scanned the corners of the street. Satisfied that it was clear of enemies, the lieutenant waved in a gesture down into the sewer. The waiting clone paratroopers poured out of the manhole, filing into the street and taking up defensive positions. Czar took a moment to surveyed the troopers, appreciating how focus his clone brother could be before turning to his one-man, Private Niner... ...

"What's the schedule say, Niner?"

"Sir, we have thirteen minutes to secure the immediate area before the first gunships arrive." Niner replied with certain about of haste. An understanding reaction, "When the transports get here, we'll have an hour until the next arrived."

"Gamma squad will get their first transports in forty. They should have gotten to their LZ by now..." The clone lieutenant murmured aloud, review the planned LAAT landings to himself. Czar looked over to one of the ruined threatre house across the way, "We should get started ourselves. Let begin with that building over there. We can hold it as our command point."

"Yes, sir!"

Breaking into a sprint, the crew of clones dash along the fractured streets and leaped up the sprawling series of stairs. The threatre house was constructed with pearl white marble to a height of over seventy meters, decked with massive pillars on the front so wide that most humanoids couldn't dream of wrapping their arms around. Czar stared up the length of the building, rain plopping across his visor, as the clone lieutenant thumbed over a plan of attack. The troopers around him were eager to go, clenching their Deeces in their arms with their fingers inches away from the triggers. But they were calm. The clones were focus on scanning the avenue for moving, to only be divided by the occasional glance to Czar for their next order. The silence between them would be of pin-drop quality, if the constant down pour had not broke it.

"Well secure the roof and interior simultaneously" The clone lieutenant proclaimed, "Right Klick and Babes are on me for the climb to the roof. Niner, take the rest of Kappa into the building. We have ten to make this location a viable LZ, so lets move!"

"Right away, sir!!" The troopers all related, rushing over to take positions at either the threatre house's door or front pillars, respectively. Kappa's one-man, though, stopped at the side of Czar before joining the clones by the door, "Sir, I should take the beacon." The lieutenant suddenly jerked his head to Niner, obvious not expecting the trooper to make such a demand, "The interior of the building will be a much more defend-able than the roof, sir. Unless you don't agree with the assumption...sir?"

"No, of course."

Czar pulled the flash red beacon off his belt and handed it to the private, after which the one-man darted off to the paratroopers by the threatre door. The clone lieutenant stared after Niner for a few moments before turning his attentions to the ledge of the roof above. Pushing his wrist up and aiming his outstretched arm to the roof, the clone officer flick his hand and produced a loud bang. A thin length of wire zoom from the lieutenant's gauntlet, travel up the building and sinking into the roof's ledge. It was one of Czar's many toys from his special ARC training he received for displaying individuality in front of right su. It, along with his strong shows of loyalty, gave the clone a clear path to clone commander after the this battle was over. On either side of Czar, the clones shot their scaling cables from their Deeces and began ascending their own peculiar pillars to the roof above. The clone officer started up himself, quickly over taking the other paratroopers as he practically run up the side of his pillar. ARC training...it does a clone good.

Meanwhile, Niner had joined the other clones by the threatre house main entrance. The doors, themselves, were colossi of intricate carved Laroon wood, so huge that they looked as though they could take a blaster shot. Not that the troopers would spare the ammo. The clone private waved a gesture to one the paratroopers, Levet, signaling the soldier to prepare the specialty breaching equipping to the tackle the massive doors. Despite what was published in holobooks and the likes, simple grunts rarely used demolitions for house to house fighting. To many varibles were in play, such as never actually knowing who was on the other side of the door, like fellow _vode_ or civilians. Boots on the grounds liked to use explosives to blow up buildings, not blow **in**. Thus, the clone troopers had their own solution to breaching sealed doors...the Blunt Application Atrategic Hard-entry, or BASH. Really just GAR issued sledgehammer from the base construction, but men must act like boys and professionalize their toys.

"Knock on the door, Levet" The one-man related to the clone, "...and let's see who's home."

"Yes, sir."

The paratrooper smile was easily heard in his voice, happy to follow his superior's orders. With the BASH firm set in his hands and his squadmates giving the clone a wide girth, Levet reared the hammer back around and then swung the head into the Laroon wood barriers. One hit was enough. The doors flung open, into the dark confines of the theatre house, just as the clone troopers moved. Niner was the first to enter, though was slowed down as one of the doors rebounded off it's hinges straight into his face. The small band of clones, four in all, crossed into the black, flicking on their helmet mounted tactic lights do increase the reach of their HALO imagine-enhancement. Survey the area around them, Deece barrel to bare, Niner discovered that they had entered the theatre house's cavernous lobby. The floor was black stone with flicks of white, perhaps dark granite, laced with slightly lighter speckled stone to form twisting designs. The walls looked to be made of the same white marble as outside and were lined with long staircases that lead to the upper levels of the building.

Another set of doors were before them and were unlocked when the clones checked them. One the other side the paratroopers found the house's grand theatre and stage, a marvel of stone and wood work with enough seats to accommodate half of Tal'cara with room to spare. Niner went right to work, ordering two troopers to track up to the stage on the far side of the theatre, as Levet and he worked up the center. It would be a long walk, given the room's enormous size. The clone private crept along the center aisle in slight crouch, pointing his DC-15 down each row of seats on this right as Levet took the lift. From time to time, Niner looked up to over his shoulder to the dozens of large balconies to littered the back walls of the threatre. They provided hundreds Bothans the best vantage point for viewing plays and performers. To a soldier, they provided hundreds of sniper positions over the ground levels of the theatre the clones moved along.

As the paratroopers moved closer to the stage, wide assembly of tan wood, it's lights flashed on. White beams flooded the stage from above, illuminating a lone figure at the center of the platform. The figure, dressed dark hooded robes, remain frozen on the stage as the clones rushed into defensive postures with their Deeces trained on the entity. For a few more breathless moments nothing happened...then the figure slow crouched down into a firm stance, holding it's arms aloft.

_**WHOOOISH**_... ...

Suddenly two shafts of humming red light popped from the figure's hands, one meter in length and the other only half that. For a few mesmerizing moments, Niner, Levet, and two clones on the side of theatre watched the figure, not daring to move an inch. As entity began turn his lightsabers with slight twists of it's wrists, Levet posed a question over the comlink, seemingly directed to no one.

"A Jedi...?" It was good guess, but the clone one-man was an old Geonosis trooper and immediately diagnosed the situation.

"Enemy contact!" Niner bellowed over the com, "Blast him!!!"

Not sparing a second, the clones launched a storm of blue blaster hail at the figure from either side. His red shafts met each of gleaming shots, flicking them about him into the stage and the lights above. The paratroopers pressed the attack, standing and slowly inching closure to the entity as they shot wildly from the hip, increasing the rate of fire two shots at a time to three. Then four and then five. Niner took a moment to quickly switch his Deece from semi-auto to full, sending a torrent of blasts at the humanoid target. But still, the figure's defenses were not broken. As the blaster rate heightened, so had the entity's lightsaber moves, become a light show of swirling reds producing dozens of shimmering blues around the threatre. The figures arms veered around him so fast, even, that it appeared that he had eight or ten at times. But the clones kept on firing, jumping and rolling out of the way of coming friendly lasers, and did plan on stopping until dropped the figure or ... ...

_Click_

The blaster fire dramatically ceased and Niner looked down to his Deece. Empty. Between the four clones, the troopers a shot two thousand rounds and not a single one had came close to hiding the robes of the mysterious entity. When the clone private looked back up, the figure gone and the stage was vacant. Suddenly earsplitting screeches rocketed over the comlink, turning Niner's attentions to the two troopers across the theatre. The pair each had a protruding column of thin red light, the dark robed figured standing behind them. For first time since he first saw the entity, Niner could see his enemy's stotic brown eyes from beneath his cowl. They stared at the clone one-man calmly, though they projected in animal rage burning a hole through Niner's skull.

A second later, the figure disappeared again. The private looked to either side of himself before turning his gaze up. The robed enemy had reappeared at any impossible height above the theatre floor. Levet and Niner hurled themselves to the ground as the figure landed, it was all they could do to avoid the humming crimson cuts of the entity's lightsabers. As the robed figure recollected himself, Levet jumped up and tossed aside his Deece, opting for his entry BASH instead. Swinging the might hammer about, Levet unleashed a fury of bone crushing blows at the entity. The figure, seemingly amused by the display, made on attempt to counter the clone trooper, only dodged him in series of side steps and ducks. Levet pulled the BASH above his head and dropped the hammer in a crazed battle-cry. The robed entity twisted to the side and let the attack strike the theatre floor in a loud bang. Still twisting, the figure finished his dance by pulling his sabers up and slicing the paratrooper at the waist and neck and letting the clone fall apart in thirds.

By the time Levet was finished off, Niner had managed to fumble another click into his blaster and jump up with his DC-15 to bare. With spikes of adrenaline and anger, the last clone standing launched a fury of shots from his Deece as he growled vocally at the figure. Though, the robed enemy shrugged the blue shimmers away with a whirl of one of his lightsabers. His other hand, the figure merely pointed at Niner and the clone one-man flew back to the stage, hitting and rolling across it's length. As the trooper staggered up, the distance that separated the entity and stage dissolved and he was standing a few paces from Niner. The clone private watch as the robed figure silently walk closure to him, the bastards brown eyes full of smug satisfaction. Niner had enough of this. Reaching down to his belt and pulled out a silver sphere, activating the device to glowing life. The figure took notice and immediately halted... ....

"...Don't be suicidally like the rest of your kind, clone." The robed entity called in a stoic demeanor, "Relieve the beacon and keep what little life they Republic gave you."

The clone one-man remain silent as he glared back at the robed figure, he's glowing red thermal detonator in hand as it counting down. Niner had deduced that the enemy Jedi, apparently male by his deep voice, could have diced him into bits the moment the troopers and he step into the theatre house. And see that the figure only stopped **after** the clone private threaten to blow himself up along with the beacon attached to his belt...well obviously he was lying about sparing Niner's life. The paratrooper didn't feel like test him, and he would be damned if gave up without a fight anyway. A low whistle suddenly jumped from the shimmering sphere, slow picking up in pitch and become a shrill. It signified that detonator was about to exploded, soon!

Niner quickly acted and slogged the detonator at the robed enemy, though the figure merely flicked his hand and the glowing sphere veered off to the left. The detonator erupted half away down the stage, sending fire and smoke whipping around the two souls, blinding them from the world around. The dark entity panicked for a moment as he took a few steps back from the explosion, but he quickly recollected himself and focused on the area around him. His clone opponent was coming, the robed enemy felt him running at him at full speed. With his Deece up, Niner launched a hail of blue blaster shots, prompting the dark figure to a fast defense with his lightsabers. The one-man kept moving and firing, nearly overwhelming the enemy Jedi so he was pressed to Force push the clone away. Niner was flew back, off the stage, and into the audience seats. The robed figure's senses immediately leapt! Looking down, he saw for a split second a red flash before flame... ...

_**KABLAAM**_!!!!!!!

A second thermal detonator slammed large chunk of the stage across the theatre in a bright explosion. Niner was able to caught the site just as he rearranged himself from his painful landing on the seats. The clone check himself over for a second, finding bruises but nothing broken, then looked up to watch the cloud of smoke rise from where the fireball had been on the stage. Suddenly a shadow rocketed from the cloud and landed in the aisle just a few meters down from Niner. The paratrooper ducked down...not much else to do. With no detonators left and his Deece rifle missing from his flight, the clone private had only his service pistol left, a DC-15s side arm blaster. That isn't a the weapon you face down a Jedi with.

With nothing left to do but pray, the clone one-man stuck down below a line of seats as the sound of humming sabers and slow foot drops got closure and closure. Niner held his breath, despite his HALO helmet blocking off the sound to the outside world, though the paratrooper was sure that the robed enemy would be able to hear his pounding heart anyway. The Dark Jedi walked slowly, somewhat unsteadily, walked pass where Niner was hiding. The clone was watch, sure that the figure would turn at an moment, see the trooper, and slash down at him, dead. Niner could see the smoke still flowing off of the entity from the explosion as a knot formed in the one-man's throat.

He keep walking, never seeing the paratrooper.

Niner breathed out, thankful for his helmet concealed it, as the obvious 'What the...?' question danced around his mind. Jedi where notorious for their tracking skills, apply to find a person or object from across the galaxy by simply closing their eyes. Even average Force-sensitives with no training had a knack for finding people, why not this apparently skilled Dark Jedi? Then it hit Niner...the explosion. It's was so obvious! The figure sense must be whirling from being caught in the explosion that he was barely keeping himself standing. If a thermal detonator didn't throw you off your game, nothing did.

The clone private saw his one chance. With a cautious pace, Niner pulled his service pistol from his belt and quietly stood up. Arms outstretched and both hands on the blaster, the clone trooper aimed at the entity's head before dropping down to his heart and then back to the head again. It was good technique for instant kill with an aimed shot, and the DC-15s wasn't known for it's accuracy. Niner took in deep breathes, focusing with everything he had to aim. One chance... ...

"...Get your head down, clone..." A voice whisper into Niner's HALO, prompt him to drop back down behind the seats. It was another clone, by he couldn't tell who, the whisper was too low. It was miracle for the private, "Stay where you are... I'm up in one the balconies and have a clear shot... ..."

"Take him quick!" Niner related over comlink and only the comlink, "His disoriented and should be able to fight back!!"

"... ... Move to your left..." At first, the clone one-man remained still and cocked an eyebrow in confusion. It was an odd command, considering his position for the target, but Niner wasn't the one look down the sites. The paratrooper moved to the slow to his left, glance up above the seats to watch the Dark Jedi. He was still ignore of everything, walking up the aisle in struggled trod.

_Whammmm_... ...

Niner didn't see the blaster bolt, but he did hear it, echo off the walls of the theatre. And he felt it. He felt the momentum of the shot knock his head against the edge of the seat. He felt the heat rash down from his skull, across his spine, and to his extremities. He felt bewilder as he touched the hole on back of his HALO. Most of all, the clone private felt the rage of knowing his end came from the betrayal of _vod_. Death would find him little peace with that thought... ...

The moment the shot rang out, the dark robed figure twisted about and saw the clone trooper he was hunter fall gracelessly to the ground, head smashing against the aisle seat. A smoldering gap peered from the back of the clone's paratrooper helmet, the apparent target of the mysterious blaster bolt. Deactivating his lightsaber and letting the crimson blades retract before walking over to the trooper. The entity stopped, however, a few paces away from the corpse and leaned against a seat. The battle was more draining then his pride wanted to admit. The figure opted instead to let his telekinetic Force abilities to retrieve the beacon from the dead clone.

"Are you Lord Bulq?" The Dark Jedi look turn his attentions upward to a one of the many balconies about the theatre walls. His golden-brown eyes were able to make out a white of a clone trooper's arm through the darkness, though more importantly the long blaster rifle pointed towards him.

"I am the one you were told to find." The figure finally removed his cowl and revealed a leathery brown, skinned head with deep wrinkles and no lips. Two long braids exited from the rear of the Jedi's head, colored dark brown, but save for that he was hairless. There was no doubt about it, he was Weequay, a species that was common to the galaxy but rare to the Jedi Order. Bulq went on trying to put the clone at ease, "My name is Sora Bulq, an acolyte of Master Dooku."

"I'm looking for a...**certain** Sora Bulq." If Weequay Jedi had lips, he would have curled them in disapproval of the unthrusting trooper. But such would be the life of clone spy... ...

"Let each man direct himself first to what is proper, then let him teach others..." Bulq called over to the clone, clearly annunciating every word, though with little passion, "It is thus he is wise, and will not die."

"The soldier is the commander of the soldier..." The clone trooper replied, lowering his rifle, "There is no other battlemasters. A soldier who knows himself finds a lord such as few can find."

"You read some odd books... ...for a clone."

"If more my brothers read odd books like I do, we wouldn't be having this war. **Or** this army."

Bulq nodded in agreement. He had similar view of the Jedi Council and the Republic. The fact that they needed a clone army to defend them proved how weak they really are. The Weequay's master, Count Dooku, revealed this to him some time ago and Bulq joined in the Separatist cause. The Sanyassan front was just another means to an end for Sora Bulq, as it was for this trooper. It was odd for him relate to a clone, the Dark Jedi truly could not tell from another, despite their attempts at "individualizing".

"What have to say of enemy defenses." Bulq demanded of the clone spy.

"There was a originally a battalion of clone paratroopers defending around the city. Four companies worth. About thirty percent have been killed and injured. Each company is now positioned around the center of the city were the Bothans are held up. I'd reckon that the companies have at least one SPHA heavy artillery unit a piece. There are gaps between the companies, but constant patrols and a raid or two have kept the Sanies at bay."

"I have two battle droid battalions and a forty platoons of Sanyassan infantry at my disposal..." The Dark Jedi retorted in an irritated tone, "What clones are here on the planet are of little consequence. The Republic troopers from the Star Destroyer is more of threat. Especially with General Rahm Kota leading the effort."

"Sir...I was able to retrieve the beacon codes of both sites..."

"... ... Good...good..." Bulq slit of a mouth turned up into a smile at the thought of what the clone imply. It was too deliciously sinister not to put into play... ...

G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G

With his tactical light on, Carthar could make out a whole underground sewer chamber with his imaging enhancing visor. The room was actually an intersection of several tunnels, some where gigantic and round while others could be more than a few centimeters in width. The young trooper's shins were deep in a black colored water that released a pungent smell that his helmet's filter didn't quite screen out. It was annoying, especially given the fact that they were right below their LZ point and could climb up. Carthar looked up to the latter at the center of the chamber leading up to the Tal'cara Park, a large public urban green space where Bothans used for recreation. It was weird concept to the clone, the need for a plants and trees to grow near to them.

Carthar remembered once his Kamino instructors prepared a mock forest for a war game, most of it was artificially grown to meet the recreation of a galactic battlefront. Topical flowers next to towering pine trees with spare oddity like a giant purple mushroom from Felucia. It was good for exposing the clones to different flora and teaching them as to what was edible about the universe. However, the young trooper doubted that the Bothans had similar intentions for building Tal'cara Park.

_This is pointless!_, the paratrooper fumed silently, _We could be up there right now, but instead we're waiting on Three-Twelve... ..._

It was true. The clone tech had said that he had picked up the scrambled remnants of a transmission from Command. Then he started trailing down one of the tunnels, searching for a better position to receive. That was twenty minutes ago. The sarge said to stay put though, and they did, but did not make them feel better about it. They had the time, ten minutes was all that was needed for a basic sweep of the immediate area of a landing zone. The arriving troops would then expand that area until a large section of the city was secured with hundreds of soldiers, tanks, and fighter-support. However, it all rested on the recon squad taking the LZ...and they were standing about as their technician took a call.

_Fierfek! I can't take this!!_, Carthar drummed his fingers against his repeating blaster, perfectly focused and perfectly stirred up for a fight, with nothing to do but wait, _Chappie... Why don't you ever say a word on a mission. I need something to put my mind off!_

The young trooper looked to his partner clone beside him, knowing that any level of conversation was impossible this far out into the field. Chappie seemed calm from his steady breathing over the comlink. With their HALO covering the clones' figures, that was one of the only ways to tell how another trooper was feeling. Carthar was sure he was projecting anxiety while Sage and the two temp _vode_, Sol and Lucky, held a professional air about them. Sergeant Ram was confident, though still impatient as the ARC paced around the chamber. He was raring to go, like them all, and most probably wanted to be the first up the latter. Lastly, Carthar's gaze fell on to Downs and he was as nervous as the young trooper, perhaps more so. The clone medic held his pack against his chest as a free arm fished around it's confines. As a paratrooper medic, Downs had quadrupled the medical of any other fontline trooper in the army. It was just the nature of parachute infantry, carrying more kit then standard troopers, especial considering they many of their operations involved dropping into enemy territory and fight for weeks without support. Paratroopers medics had even more hassle with gear that should really be with a mash unit, not a combat medic. Carthar blinked as the medic pulled out a small metal handle with a thin hook on one end and tiny mirror on the other, a dentistry tool no doubt. The sound of splashing feet wading through the grimy water alerted the young trooper to one larger tunnels. The squad tensed up, gripping their weapons up, however the familiar site of a white armor eased them back down as a clone paratrooper came walking in, Three-Twelve. Ram quickly moved over to the tech and was fast to reminding the clone that he said he'd back '...in a little while'.

"It took me some time find a spot com back" Explained Three-Twelve, not expressing any sorrow for belaying the mission. Carthar didn't find that to be right.

"Next time just give up after three..." The sarge retorted in low, menacing tone. He hadn't liked the troopers attitude either.

The elite clone twisted about and wading as fast as he could to the chamber's latter. As the sergeant climbed, the rest the Grunts followed close behind with Sage taking the lead right after Ram. The ARC pulled himself up to a the ceiling of the chamber where the latter lead to a durasteel manhole cover. The sarge quickly smash up and knocked the metal circle away from the entrance and flew up over the edge of the hole. There was a pause in the line of troopers, none of the clones moved as they watched the manhole carefully the signal to go. Suddenly a gloved hand peer from edge of the hole, gesturing to indicate where to position around the manhole. Carthar was able to make out that two were to go to the left and two go to the right. Gamma squad waited for a sign to move up, securing their kit straps and re-posturing to quickly race up the latter. The young trooper waited in anticipation as he gripped the metal latter bar, it's rust gritting under his hands.

Then it happened, the sergeant gestured to move up and the Grunts moved up! A second later, the squad was out of the sewer and positioned about the manhole in a defensive hold. The clones found themselves atop a neatly trimmed grassy incline, dotted a few skinny trees. Carthar scanned the area around him from behind the sites of his T-21, taking in a long field of short grassy with tall leafy hulks around it that blocked out most the bases of the tall temple-like buildings that surrounding park. The field a few walkways criss-crossing it's length with occasional stone bench sitting beside them. Off to the right of the manhole, the treeline broke and the heavy block wall that encircled Tal'cara Park was visible along with one of the gateways to the green space. The gateway was large, three arched monument looking structure, with inlay riffled pillars that ran up the twenty meter length of the edifice.

Sarge Ram suddenly barked for Gamma to start moving and the squad of clones headed towards a path that skimmed through the miniature woods of the park. The young trooper found it strange to be walking paved forest trail, it was like a strange mixture of his urban and woodland fighting training as he dashed acrossed lamppost lit pavement to dark of the forest like covering positons. Carthar pushed the thought away and continued to following their ARC sergeant down the path, Chappie close behind him. Soon the Grunts came to a quick hault as Ram raised his left fist into the air and took a knee. The squad mimic the commando's actions as they caught movement a few meters in front of them. As Carthar listen, caught the distinct noise, _clink-rasp-clink-rasp_, called out every time a shadow moved. Battle droids, no one made that odd evenly spaced sound as they moved.

"Aaahh... Where were we suppose to dig in at, again?" A squeaky, mechinical voice posed as the droids moved under a lamppost. It was a squad of B1 battle droids, sparsely armed with blaster rifles. A couple had long tubes attached to their back, about a meter or so in length. The young trooper quickly surmised that they were mortar units.

"You idiot!" Another droid retorted in the same mechinical voice as the first as it lead the troop, totally a bliss to the clones, "This is way I'm in charge of this unit. Your programing needs debugging!!"

"Three-Twelve, whats their count..." The sarge commanded over their com. Looking back at the tech, Carthar saw Three-Twelve pulling out a pistol grip mounted device with a datapad connected to it. He pointed it to the coming droids and tapped his thrumb across the pad's controls.

"Thirteen in all, centered on path in single file."

"Hey, what's that?" The droids finally caught note of the Grunts, but there visual sensors didn't seem to pick them up properly.

"Is it Squad Two-two-nine?"

"They're in the southern quardent, you idiot!" The droid commander and slammed it's metal claw into the dimwitted robort's face plate, knock the droid back a couple steps. Then the commander pointed one it's durasteel fingers at the paratroopers and barked an order, "You!! Identify yourselves at once! This is our patrol sector!!"

Carthar snickered in disbelieve. It was everyday that a droid mistaked clone trooper for one it's own. Sergeant Ram, though, was using the time the confusion gave them to position the Grunts about the path, telling the young trooper and his partner to set up the repeater on the right as Lucky, Sage and the ARC himself went to their left. Chappie and Carthar fell to this stomaches on the dirt next the pavement, the younger clone yanking his T-21 clip out as his partner the power pack from this shoulders and prepared the power cable connection. The clone pair were ready, the sarge gave the order to let the plasma fly. A torrent of blue shimmers rained acrossed the darkness and into the droids and their commander. Mechinical screams pumped out of the droids vocabulator as they fell to pieces... Carther always found that an odd trait to programing into a battle droid... ...

"Pick it up, Grunts!" The sergeant bellowed as he stood up and down path again, "That little hard contact should have been by every Sanie and tinnie in the area. We'll dig in at the western entrance and hold up there. Three-Twelve, go scout out the northern stretch of the park's big field. That's where the larties will land."

"Yes, sir." The tech replied and rushed off into the darkness.

Carthar got up with his repeating blaster still hooked up as his partner shouldered his Deece and picked the power pack by the straps. The young trooper and Chappie raced down the paved path behind Ram, along with the rest of Gamma Sqaud. As they neared the western entrance, a copy the first tall edifice gate, their ARC sergeant told them to take defensive positions inside the archways. Carthar and Chappie rashed to the farthest arch, immediately dropping to the ground and aimed the light repeating blaster up the road just out from the gate. The street was set on a hill, rising the street up in a steep incline, ruined landspeeders and bombed out buildings stood about it.

The young trooper looked over to the conjoining archway, where the sarge and most of the Grunts had held their positions. Ram had his hands full preparing the signal beacon for LAATs. It was quiet, save for the sound of rain hitting a speeder close to the gate as well as the occassional _wamp_ of a distant explosion. It was a silent as battlefield could get...and it scaried the poodoo out of Carthar. Nothing good came out of battlefront's silence, that was one of the first things clones had learned in field exercises. A few troopers even died because they relexed during such a silence, victims of live fire and overconfidence. The temp trooper, Sol, inched over to the repeater blaster duo and started up a tiny conversation... ...

"Does Gamma normally get fierfek azalus type missons like these?" The clone posed. It took a second for the Carthar to translate the Huttese 'azalus' as dangerous, then answered.

"You should have been with us when we head out to pick fruit for the mess crew to use. We got pinned down for an hour by mortar fire. And when got back, the kitchen was empty. Captain Burrs had to send the troopers out to re-enforce on the frontlines...so **we** had to take over mess duty."

"Too bad I didn't caught that meal... ..." Sol must have been joke, since Carthar knew that the Grunts cooking made have the company throw chunks after suppier, "So...what's the deal with the super sarge ARC, anyway?" The young trooper was quiet, not know if he should answer the clone question, "I though ARCs liked to work alone."

"...He's... Well, he's gotten us here so far." Carthar remember how the elite clone had saved many of the Grunts lives, especially his, many times, "I know that I trust him a hundred percent. Chappie too." The young trooper's partner nodded in response, still focused on the road ahead of them with his Deece.

"Yeah...well if his anything like the ARCs at the Battle of Kamino, I wouldn't quite trust him so much so."

"What do you mean?"

"What? Didn't you know??" Carthar thought back to the articles and the released reports on the Separatist's invasion of Kamino. The ARCs had been first activated then and helped the Jedi fight the droid forces off. What's not to trust about that? Sol continued, "Well the rumor is that ARC commandos were going to wipout a whole lab of developing clones instead of letting them fall into enemy hands before the Jedi stopped them."

"That's poodoo, you know it." Chappie surpraisingly retorted, "Only scum spread rumors like that." The temp trooper look down at the fuming clone, then replied

"Well, I'm in good company...the Grunts seem like Eighth's scum unit, anyway."

"Yeah, but we're First Rate Scum!" Chappie snickered back, "You lower rate scum from Second Company need to straight up."

Sol laughed lightly and went to take cover from behind a pillar. The young trooper sighed and grinned, releaved that the two clones treated the conversation as joke more than a serious discussion. Suddenly, just as temp trooper reached the pillar a wave of red blaster bolts washed over the clone, knocking his flat onto this back. Carthar shot a spray of blue plasma up the road.

"Repeater blaster!!!!" He called as the paratroopers tighten up behind cover and hugged the ground.

"Give me an angle on that fire, people!!" Ram called over the ripping blaster shots as they tore the gate's stonework away piece by piece. Carthar gazed down his T-21 iron sites up the hill of the street where the crimson gleams flowed like leafs down a stream.

"Building at the end of the road!" Proclaimed the young trooper, "Two windows!! One on second floor...another on the first!"

"Right" The sarge glanced to his clone one-man, close by at the edge of the gate and street, "Sage!! Drop them!"

Carthar was sure that he heard a 'Yes, sir!' or not, but Sage picked himself up and raced out onto the road. The young trooper was quick to lay down a good stream of covering fire on the opposing building, keeping most the deadly red bolt away from the running clone. Sage dash to a landspeeder that faced the gateway, it's back to the enemy fire, the clone set himself into a kneel behind the craft. As Carthar and a few of the Grunts kept up the plasma on building, Sage place his Deece atop the speeder's hood and removed the telescopic sight stored under the rifle, reattaching it over the blaster's iron sites. Most clone troopers never used the scope on the DC-15A, since the weapon was inheritly inaccurate at any significant range. Sage, however, seem to defy the facts of weapon. The opposing building must have being one and half a kilometer away and without a tripod, the odds were against Sage of hitting the relatively tiny small Sanie heads who operated the repeaters.

_Never tell me the odds_, Carthar remembered the clone one-man saying once.

From over the comlink, the young trooper could hear Sage breathing lengthen to deep inhales and slow exhales. In...then out...it had a calming effect on Carthar, even more so of the clone behind the scope probably. The younger clone listen as Sage exhaled again, then start to inhale-_wh-wham_!! The Deece fired twin blaster bolts, so close to together that they sounded and appeared to be one. The pair of blue shots slammed the landspeeder's front windshield, through the cabin, and out the rear windshield to the blasting window on the first floor. The red the bolts that were spraying the window ceased, just as Sage was sending to two more shots into the second repeater window. Two shots, that's what real snipers did. The One-shot-one-kill idea was always superseded by the Two-shots-definitely-dead concept.

Despite Sage shots, the clones knew that it was only a brief reprieve before more Sanies took up the repeating blasters. Downs was quick to take advantage of the time, sailing over to Sol and dragged the trooper deeper into the archway, close to Chappie and Carthar. He pulled the temp trooper's HALO off carefully and pressed two fingers on Sol's jugular, checking for a pulse. He seemed sanatisfied with it and went to pull the clone's have shut laids as he revealed a small hand glowlamp and checked the temp trooper's eyes. Carthar shot glance at the between scanning the street and watching Downes work, the young trooper never saw the clone medic preform so close before. Downes had pulled he's pack from his shoulders and started digging through it's contains. He started to pilling things onto of Sol's stomach, synthflesh bandages, a hypospray, various vials. It was by that time the young trooper had noticed that injured clone was panting heavily, his face contorted in agony. Over half of Sol's chest was covered in charred blaster points, including his upper arms and few on his legs. The trooper was crying from the pain, tears and mucus from his eyes and nose ran down Sol's cheeks to pool along with the bits of blood he had coughed up. Carthar did blame him. The clone looked like hell and probably felt like it.

"Sarge, I need to get this brother out of here." Downs announced to Sergeant Ram as he loaded a vial into the hypospray, then pressed it's tip between Sol's legs plate near the groin, "I can't stable else him out here!"

"Keep your head cool, doc." The ARC replied in calm demeanor, "When larties arrive, we'll evac the _vod_ and you can go with him."

"THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!!!!" The clone medic bellowed back. With out warning, several red shimmers slammed into the gate's stone and sent a chunk of it falling to the ground, close to Downs and Sol. The medic pulled his body over the injured clone and Carthar quickly launched a arch of blaster bolts down the road. That had silenced the Sanies for a bit, though their attack did shock Downs to clear his head, "I can't help this man. He's going to die if he doesn't get out of here soon."

"Downs... I'm not expecting a miracle." It was blunt, "Do your job, take his pain. At least he'll die around brothers."

Carthar down at the temp trooper...it really didn't feel right calling him that anymore. Sol was still panting hard, though he did seem to be in as much pain since Downs gave him the hypo. A thought crossed the young trooper's mind and he glanced up to Lucky, the other paratrooper from 2nd Company. He was kneeling behind a pillar, not daring to look Downs' and Sol's way as he rested his head against the pillar. The younger clone's throat welled up a little, like someone was squeezing it. He surmised that it was pity, a feeling that clone troopers weren't supposed to have. Damn, insufficient Kaminoian cloners... ...

The Sanie lighter repeater fire started up again, crimson rain fly down at the Grunts from the opposing building. The clones returned fire, Sage looked for the blaster positions, the sarge barked orders to focus fire on each window at a time, and Downs worked on the dying clone with no hope of saving him. Carthar had experience all this before, fighting for his squad and his lives and watching _vode_ die, though it was the first time that it all seem to happen at the same time. It was all to fast, with no pause button or call to caught his breath.

_**Pop**_!!!

Yes...That's how Carthar would discribe it. _Pop_! The young trooper had never heard anything like it and that's all there was to it. No bolt, no explosion on contact, no flashing lights. One second Downs was working his magic, then next _pop_ and the clone medic was holding his throat with both hands. A gargling noise filled the comlink and everyone looked back at Downs. Sol had stop panting.

_**Pop**_!!!

The side of the clone medic's HALO dissolved way into tiny fragments that flew about in the air before Downs fell across Sol. Chappie and young trooper stare agap behind their helmets as Downs lay perfectly still and silent atop the paratrooper. Their ARC sergeant rash over to the falling medic, pulling him off Sol as he grabbed the bandages and vials Downs had plan to use on the now dead clone. He looked up to Carthar and his partner as they continued to watch, though Chappie quickly went back to blasting. The younger clone hadn't caught on... ...

"_Ka'rta_, fire your weapon." The elite clone sounded stotic, calm, unattached to fact that his fingers were deep in Downs brains. That's all he said before going to work on the medic, stuff back in tissue and bandaging the holes. Carthar swallowed the fear that started to consume him and pulled his T-21 butt against his shoulder, sending out a stream of bolts. Ram voice reappeared over the comlink, but young trooper stayed focused on the battle, "Sage, get that _chakaar_ sniper."

"Sir... ..." The one-man growled in replied.

Sage projected more quiet rage than Carthar thought possible, even when he almost lay into him before. Suddenly, the clone stood straight up and trod around the landspeeder. The young trooper blinked once, but kept firing at the building without stopping. Crimson gleams danced about the clone one-man, zooming past his head so close that Carthar almost thought that he had been hit. Halfway down the street, Sage pulled his Deece up and launched to shots into the opposing building's window, then fire two more into second window. The red blaster bolts ceased, this time for good and the clones stopped themselves. The paratrooper kept walking, though, veer off to another relatively intact building next to the street.

_**Pop**_!!!

Sage's shoulder jerked back, but the paratrooper kept walking. As he reached building, the clone trooper point his rifle up with one arm and sent several bolts at the edge of the roof. By the sixth or seventh shot, a form appeared on the roof that stood and fell off down to the street below. In the fall, Carthar could tell it was a humanoid, most probably another Sanie. Sage moved to sniper and rolled him over with his boot. The one-man looked down at the Sanie as his head moved slightly, as though he was speaking but nothing came over the comlink. Then he raised his Deece and sent bolt into the sniper's head, point-blank.

"Sniper's dead." Sage proclaimed over the com. His shoe pushed up something that was atop the Sanyassan's chest. It looked like a brown bar from where Carthar was, "The echuta had a slug thrower...flash reducer on the muzzle. Scum sucker... ..."

The standing members of Gamma Squad quickly gathered in the central archway of Tal'cara Park's western gate, Downs placed in the middle of their circle atop a plastoid sheet. The clone was covered in blood that stained his white armor, very different from the relatively clean kills of blaster fire, and Downs' helmeted head was wrapped in lengths of bandages just like his neck. The medic's com was shut off, but by the shaking rises of his chest one could surmise that the clone was still fight for breaths. Sol layed next to him, an unmoving and uncaring corpse. From where he was now standing, Carthar could see hole in the clone trooper's jaw. A small hole, considering that it was the killing blow for Sol. The young trooper look up to Lucky across from him. The 2nd Company man had pick up his dead comrade's RPS rocket launcher and was gripping it so hard that his fingers were begin to tremble. Sergeant Ram walked over to Lucky touched his shoulder... ...

"I need two to carry Downs to a safe point" The ARC related as the pulled the launcher from the paratroopers arms. Lucky gave little tug, though relented none the least, "We'll reposition at the center of the LZ." Turning to walk to the edge of the gateway and the park, Ram called over the comlink, "Three-Twelve, report in."

"Sir, the LZ's immediate area is clear." The disembody voice of the clone tech responded on the com, "There's nothing by trees and more trees."

"Downs got hit and we need a place to hold him up. Any good property to buy?"

"A moment, sir..." There was a silence, Three-Twelve was no doubt checking his datapad, "There's a outcrop of rock half a klick from sewer entrance we used. It seems to be in other direction from where the enemy positions start, sir."

"Good enough." Looking back to the squad, the sarge's gaze fell on Sage and the trails of red dropping down his arm, "You're wound, Private."

"Flesh wound, sir..." Sage said, almost as a retort.

"I'd reckon that by the why you're favoriting that arm, it's not working to peak efficiency. Go. Watch over your squad _vode_ and wait for my signal."

"Right, sir."

Lucky and Sage went to both ends of the fallen medic, took up the corners of Downs' plastoid, and trooped out. Now it was just the three clones and their squadmate from the 2nd. Carthar looked down at his gaunlet-mounted chrono and sighed. Still ten minutes till the gunships arrived, a eternity as far as the young trooper was concerned. Glance down to the Sol, Carthar blinked. The sarge was kneeling next to the dead clone, hovering above the corpse as he pried Sol's ID tally from his beastplate. The ARC pocketed the tally into pouch on his right kama and then folded Sol's hands over his charred chest.

"Sol, _ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum_..."

Carthar blinked, twice. He was sure that what the sergeant said was in Mand'a, but with spar amount the young trooper had picked up from Ram (mostly curse words) couldn't possible let him translate it. Though, Carthar was sure that the elite clone had mentioned Sol's name. He felt like asking the sarge what said, but he also felt that now wasn't the best of times. So the three headed out, leaving Sol at the western gate, and moved to the center of the field. Had they the time, they would have buried the struck clone somewhere in that park.

Had they the time... ...

As the three race across the rain soaked field, the clone kicked up mud and grass that sprayed along their armor. Chappie had almost slipped once as the ran, Carthar slipped twice and barely kept his light repeating blaster from hitting the wet soil. The ARC sergeant, though, transversed the field with ease as though it was as though it was dry as Tatooine. As they neared the center of the field where LZ was going to be, the sarge and the repeater blaster team were met by Three-Twelve as he took a knee at the landing site. Ram rushed over to the clone tech and kneeled behind him, check around him for any contacts. Carthar and his partner set the T-21 beside them, both taking a kneeling position like the other two.

"Three-Twelve. Fancy seeing a familiar face here." The clone commando said with a smirk in his voice, "Walking your dog today or are you just enjoying the sunny weather?"

"Sir, I finished the sweep of the park's wooded areas and fields found are current spot satisfactory for the landing zone." The clone tech replied, ignoring the sarge's odd humor, "If my chrono is right, we have seven or six minutes until the transports arrive." Suddenly sound of repulsorlift engines, a _chonker-chonker_ type of noise, hit the clones' ears.

"What to make that calculation again?" Ram commented as he searched the raining skys for aircraft.

"... ..." Three-Twelve was silent as he continued listen. The _chonkers_ got closer and closer, Carthar could have swore it was right on them but the skies where still empty, "Something isn't right, sir..."

As the young trooper looked to the far left, his eyes caught an object moving towards their position. It appeared to be a disk spaced craft with a short fuselage at the front. Carthar was sure what it was, but it was definitely not a LAAT. The ARC looked to the younger clone, then followed his gaze to the coming craft... ...

"HMP enemy gunship!!" The sergeant was able to bellow over the comlink before a series of red flashes appeared from the across the craft's surface and zoomed towards the clones.

* * *

Author's Note: This is long chapter and it was LONGER before. Anyway Review!


	6. Chapter 6

Note: This is where I cut up the original chapter, so definitely read chapter Five before reading this...some people skip chapter...

* * *

Arriving at the bridge of a Venator-class cruiser that zooming through hyperspace at a very high velocity, the Jedi Padawan Ahsoka Tano exited turbolift into a chaos clone officers and troopers dash from terminal to terminal, crossing the walkways to either crew pits as the tripled their normal actives. The Togruta sited the ship's naval commader, the human admiral named Wullf Yularen, communing with an officer who nodded several times during the conversation before rashing off. Across the main walkway, staring stoticly out into the phantasm of blues and whites outside, Ahsoka's master stood with his hand clasped behind his back. The Padawan smile as she made her way to him, dodging clones racing about the deck. Just before reaching the Jedi Knight, Ahsoka was intercepted by Admiral Yularen... ...

"Ah...Miss Tano" Yularen said with form regard as he turned fully to the Padawan, "I see you've awoken just in time. I was going to send someone for you, but General Skywalker insisted to let you stay asleep a little long. He thought you would need the rest."

"Actually I was _meditating_ in my cabin, Admiral..." Ahsoka lied. She had to keep up Jedi appearances, "What's happen?"

"We've received a distress signal from the _Dauntless_ in the Kothlis system."

"That's the cruiser Master Rahm Kota and his militia took, right?"

"Yes, and they've seem to have been ambushed by a Separatist/Sanyassan trap." The Admiral related with deep frown as he sighed, "The _Dauntless_ was heavily damaged and there is reports there's Separatist carriers in near the planet."

"Then do you know if they landed more troopers on Kothlis?"

"We don't know anything, Snips." The silent Anakin called over to the two and they snapping there attentions to the Jedi General, "There battalion on Kothlis or a whole battle droid army." Ahsoka moved over to the general, Yularen left to continue the work with clones, and the Togruta looked up to the head-taller Jedi... ...

"Why did you let me sleep with **this** going on!" The Padawan whispered in a frustrated tone.

"I thought you could use." Anakin explained innocently, "It's not a everyday occurrence to face down General Grievous and escape with your life."

"I'll let you know that I could whip that tinnie general any day of the week. Jedi Killer...more like Jedi **Wheezer**."

"Careful, my young padawan." The Jedi Knight retorted sagely, "Over confidence will lead to downfall." Ahsoka snickered at her master, know full will that he never really followed that advice from his master. But that did not mean the Padawan disregarded the utterance, though. Suddenly, the whole bridge shuddered and the younger Jedi almost stumbled down in a fall.

"What was that!" The Togruta cried as the shaking ceased.

"I ordered the engines to be pushed a hundred and fifty percent."

"You WHAT?!!!"

"The _Dauntless _and Master Kota are in trouble. We need to get there now or we won't have anyone to rescue."

"What good will we, Master, if we break apart into a **million **pieces!!!"

"She'll hold together-" Anakin cut himself short as another shudder waved across the ship, more violent than the first. The whole bridge staff halted what they were doing for a second and braced themselves, Ahsoka and her master including.

"Come one, baby, hold together..." The Togruta Padawan cooed as she petted the bulkhead near the viewport, as though stroking an overworked farmer animal.

G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G

Giant crimson bolts ripped through the rainy air the four Gamma clones, blasting up dirt and flame. Sarge Ram told the clones to book it after him as the ARC rocketed across the field, his WESTAR roaring at the HMP. Carthar glanced back over his shoulder to see a zooming stream of red shots tore through the ground behind them. Chappie was beside the young trooper, not straying a half a meter from him as the partner carried the repeating blaster's power pack, still **connected** to the repeating blaster. It was deadly dance of a matching each other's speed while not slow down enough to get caught by the crimson hail. Somehow they stay with Three-Twelve and the sergeant as they neared the northern part of the field where the treeline started next to the park's surrounding wall.

"Get in the forest!! GO!!!" Ram demanded as he halted behind the first tree next to the field, Carthar and the others rocketing past him.

The HMP gunship overshot the treeline, still blasting it's cannons, and chopped several of the park's trees clean off. The ARC sergeant walked out into the field, shouldered his WESTAR rifle, and pulled around Sol's RPS-6 launcher. Carthar watched from a knelled position under the canopy, his repeater partner right next to him, and the trooper blinked at the site. The younger clone knew that RPS was meant to attack infantry columns and armor, not a fast moving aerial targets. It was lucky to get the thing to shot straight. The _chonker-chonker_ of repulso-engines sounded from above the trees came closer and closer as the flashes of red bolts poured out of the disk shaped craft and zooming around Ram, though the clone commando remain still. Just as the HMP was about to overshoot, the ARC brought the launcher up and a blazing rocket screamed from the tube straight up into the air. It struck the gunship between the disk and the fuselage, erupting in a bright explosion and tearing sizable hole in the HMP. The enemy craft somersaulted once, twice, three ti-

_**WHACK**_!!!!

HMP crashed into the field in a dazzling eruption of dirt, fire, and metal, made all the more grand by the gunship's ordnance. Story-high flames jumped up from the wreck, mark the craft's integrated droid brain funeral pyre despite the steady down pour. Sergeant Ram watched the burning gunship for moment, then rose his free left arm and signaled the clones to move out after him as the elite trod back to their original position. Chappie and young trooper disconnected their respective equip, deciding that it would be better to be able to spread out.

_No rest for the weary..._, Carthar thought to himself as he sighed heavily, _At least no for clones._

As the four past burning hulk, Three-Twelve suddenly stopped and turned to the wreckage. It prompted the sergeant and other two clones to hault and look back to the tech, then to the remains of the HMP. The blaze was still roaring and it was causing the wreckage to shift slightly from the heat. As Carthar gazed about the durasteel ruins, a long metal sheet began to shake violently, more so then the rest wreckage was, until it flew out of the fire and spun across the field to stop in front of the confused paratroopers. The young trooper looked back to where the sheet had originally been and gasped!

"What the hell...?" The four clones were staring at an erect form, most definitely a humanoid, standing at the heart of the blaze atop the HMP rumble.

The humanoid shape started to crouch down, lowering it's height as the forms "legs" recoiled. Suddenly it vanished! The young trooper and his squad _vode_ rose the barrels of their blasters, scanning left and right for the humanoid. It had total disappeared from view. A second after the shape vanished, Carthar felt a force knock him to the ground with **huge** amount of strength, almost like it had been a bulk-speeder dropping from the sky. The young trooper breathed hard as he heard someone scream close by, but all he could do was stare wide-eye into the raining clouds. Then blaster fire roared around him, blue bolts dancing across his visions. Carthar tried to stand again, however, whatever force had knocked him down had now grabbed the back of the clone's bodysuit collar and dragged Carthar across the field, kit and him all. The young trooper grunted and tried the pivot his T-21 repeater around to whatever entity was pulling him, accidentally sending a stream of cobalt shots before dropping the repeating blaster as they hit a bump in the field.

Without warning, Carthar found himself weightless as the ground under him zoomed away and then turned to face upwards to the sky. Soon the clouds, too, seem to pull away from him before the young trooper's back met pavement. Pain washed over the paratrooper, sailing down his spine, and pushing another grunt from Carthar's lips. Then gripped his collar again, threaten to yanked the clone along again. Carthar quick twisted his head in time to see a long metal arm connected to a squarish, hourglass shaped durasteel torso. A droid. The realization hit the young trooper, the droid started running and dragged Carthar behind it just like before. The paratrooper caught the site of chunks of stone rumble and tall buildings as the droid dragged him, apparently deep into the remnants of the city. Carthar's armor was scrapped noisily against pavement and rumble underneath, sending heat up into his body from the friction that the paratrooper's coolant system struggled to keep under control.

Suddenly, the hold on the young trooper's collar fell away and the clone skidded to a halt. Carthar pushed himself into sit position, leading back on his arms as the searched for his droid abductor. The paratrooper found himself in an unfamiliar street, his mechanical kidnapper gone, and nothing but ruined building facades and a single faded red landseeder standing around him. The young trooper stood up slowly, still putting out a weary eye for the droid. The street held a deadly silence about it that made Carthar want to bug it out of there and move back to the field. He turned down to face on end of the street, figuring that it was best way to the park, and start down it. However, after only a couple steps, a shadow landed on the red speeder and crashed the cabin under it's weight. Carthar's entire formed ripped towards the speeder and the shadow revealed itself to be the clone's droid abductor. The young trooper recognized the model...an IG-100 MagnaGuard, a power droid designed to protect the Separatist elite and combat Jedi. A elongated, black metal pole was grasped in one of the IG-100 durasteel claws, an electrostaff that immediately sprung to purple-electrical life as the droid stood erect.

Carthar was **not** have any of that.

Turning back down the street, the clone booked it down the pavement. The young trooper's pulse pumped in his ears from the ranning and his animal fright telling him that he was dead if he slowed down. He turned to look over his shoulder and saw the IG-100 not ten meters behind him and catching up. The droid had it's electrostaff held down low as it ran in a slight crouch, moving faster and faster. Then it past the paratrooper, sweeping him up and off his legs to a somersault in the air, and land face down on the pavement with grunt. Th IG-100 loomed over Carthar, it's staff spray violet sparks as it hovered over the trooper's head. The clone glanced up once and suddenly ripped his hand up grabbed the droid's weapon, gritting his teeth as purple electricity ran down his arm. The IG-100, though, simply slammed it's durasteel foot atop Carthar's back and the clone released the electrostaff. Immediately after, it dropped it's freed staff onto the young trooper's right thigh with terrific force.

"**AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH**!!!!!!" Carthar screamed.

He screamed with a horrific, blood curdling volume that echoed off the walls of the buildings and down the street. The numbing electrical strike coupled with the blunt hit of the staff caused Carthar's leg on bearable pain and the clone stook because of it. The young trooper looked up at the droid, his fingers curling in the rumble as wish he could stand and punch, kick, and tear the IG-100 apart with every fiber of his being. The droid was stotic, though, and would probably would have remain just as dispassionate had it know of Carthar's glare. It was a machine, it took no shame or pleasure from it's duty. The droid simply did it's purpose, killing the living, nothing else. The IG-100 surveyed Carthar's shivering form another second with it's blazing red "eyes" before disappearing... ...

_What...??_, the young trooper was preplexed, totally at awe that the droid simply vanish, _Why didn't it finish me off?! What's going on?!!_

"..._Ka'rta_...!" The voice was dull and distant, but distinct... ...

"SARGE!!!" Sergeant Ram's HALO suddenly manifested from a bend in the road as trod towards Carthar. The younger clone smiled and let his helmeted head drop to the ground as relief rushed through him. Then thought crossed his mind and the trooper tried to push himself up, "Sarge!! GO!!!! It's a **trap**!!!"

The ARC stopped just as the IG-100 reappeared and landed in front of Ram. The commando pulled his blaster up, but it was swipe away by the droid's staff as it spun it's body around and used the momentum to throw a kick at the sarge. Ram, though, crossed his arms in front of him and let the kick be absorbed by his gauntlets as the ARC pushed his limbs apart and remained firmly standing. The IG-100 whirled it's electrostaff between it's metal hands as it retreated backwards. The sarge focused himself into a strong stance, outstretched his left arm into the rainy air. Suddenly a long beam of light exited from Ram's gauntlet, twist and bending as it hit and burned the street. It remained Carthar of lightsaber, but constantly shifting forms and extremely flexible as opposed to the Jedi weapon. The elite clone wound his arm back and flung the energy beam over his head and to the IG-100. The beam rippled has to flew at the droid, like the movement of a whip. The IG-100 was fast to parry the beam with it's staff, but just as it was knocked down, Ram twisted his arm and the side of his body and the beam sprung back up at the droid. The mechanical fighter leapt away from the beam and struck out at it again with it's electrostaff.

As the IG-100 landed a dozen meters away, the ARC sergeant pressed the attack and dashed towards the robot. The droid turned sideways and pointed it's weapon at the coming clone, jabbing at Ram as he neared. The ARC veer in his step and dodge the first thrust and bend backwards to avoid another. Pivoting around, Sergeant Ram brought the gauntlet's beam up in a pivot formed slicing arc, only to have it blocked by the IG-100 whirling electrostaff. He spun around twice more and knocked the droid back as it continued it's whirling defensive. Carthar blinked, his jaw agap. He couldn't believe that the sarge was holding his own against a MagnaGuard droid in a melee fight. The young trooper couldn't imagine a clone surviving an encounter, ARC or not, but Sergeant Ram actually seemed to be winning against the IG-100.

The fight went on for another minute or two. Ram spun his whole body as coiled and popped his gauntlet beam about the droid, as the IG-100 whirled, swung, and thrust it's staff at the clone. The mechanical fighter sprawled into a low crouch and waved it's electrostaff across the ARC's legs. However, the legs where gone just when the weapon swipped as Ram quickly performed back-flipped and landed a meter back. Just as the elite clone landed, though, his gauntlet's beam faded out. The IG-100 was quick to take the advantage and charged the ARC, it's weapon erect like spear thrusting. Ram speedily duck underneath the electrostaff and came up to the push the droid with both his hands... push?? The IG-100 was barely phased and it sent a metal back against the clone's chest, throwing the sarge far across the street with it's tremendous strength. Ram hit the pavement with grunt, but quickly rolled back up in a crouched and waited. The droid was about press the attack when a low whistle caught it's attention. The whistle increased in pitch as the IG-100 looked down to where the noise was coming from. A red glowing sphere was attached to it's chassis... ...

_**KABLAAM**_!!!!!!!

The droid exploded in a ball of flame and dirt. A thermal detonator on the belly does that, you know. As the young trooper started pulled himself up, the ARC sergeant was already by his side and ushered Carthar's arm around his neck as he helped the younger clone up.

"Th-That was...AMAZING!!" Carthar proclaimed as he leaned against the sarge and used his good leg to stand up.

"Yeah...but I think that _chakaar_ droid broke one of my ribs..."

The sarge and Carthar limped down the street back towards the park, there pace slow but the two where smiling under their helmets. They had stop a couple of times so that the young trooper reposition the ARC's blaster back up onto his shoulder (seeing that Ram had his arms full), however they kept a stay speed. About a kilometer from Tal'cara Park, the two caught a shadow moving from alleyway. Carthar was quick to ready the WESTAR rifle and pointed it down the alley as the form moved closer and closer. Then it came into the light... ...

"Lieutenant Czar!" The young trooper related pulling back the blaster. The clone had the urge to salute the clone officer, but his sergeant held his arm firm to kept Carthar standing. Czar, though, did seem to mind as bent over and panted, like a runner after a race.

"Sir? What's wrong??" The ARC asked.

"...*huff*...*huff*...My squads all dead...*huff*..." The lieutenant replied between breathes, "...*huff* *huff*...I know who the spy is..."

G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G_G

"One minute to real space, sir." A helmet clone trooper announced down the bridge's crew pit.

Ahsoka was on the main walkway, looking out the panoramic viewports of hyperspace. Her master was still standing at the center view, just where the Padawan had found him, arms folder in front of him as he wait with eyes closed and his mouth in a frown. The Togruta sighed...the Jedi Knight was either meditating or brooding, Ahsoka could never tell. Admiral Yularen on the walkway next to her, glancing at his wrist chrono before looking at the naval clone officers work their magic at the _Resolute's_ controls. They would soon be in the battle at Kothlis and the Yularen was just happy to have his cruiser's over taxed engines turned off. Ahsoka walked over to Anakin... ...

"So, SkyGuy, what's the plan for dealing with Sanies?" The Togruta Padawan posed with a smirk, reeling to hear the infamous Skywalker's scheme.

"It would be best to exit hyperspace close to Kothlis' asteroid belt, General." The admiral jumped up, hands clasped behind him as he spoke, "We'll divert energy to the front shields and quickly launch a flight of-"

"Divert all power to port and starboard cannons, Admiral." Yularen blinked at the suddenly outburst, more phased by being total ignorance of his suggestion.

"General...I would advise against opting for the attack straight out into this fight. We need to keep up our defenses and close on to the enemy cruisers."

"Thank you, Admiral, for a your..._advice_ on the battle, but I have my own plan." Anakin glanced over his shoulder to Yularen as a smirked pulled up his lips, "What I'm planning should cut the opposition's attack in half!"

"Wow!! Master, you got to let me in on this!"

Admiral Yularen turned a cocked eyebrow to the young Padawan excitement, perplexed as to her attitude to the whole scenario. Ahsoka seem to be treating it like some game...was that how Padawans saw the war? He wondered. Whatever the case, Anakin would not budge to the Togruta's prompts to reveal his intentions with the cannons.

"Now, I don't want to ruin the surprise of it all, Snips." That was all the Jedi Knight would relent to the girl. Yularen supposed that General Skywalker had at least treated the battle as a board game, then looked down at his chrono again.

"In twenty seconds, drop back into realspa-" The admiral begin to command, but Anakin superseded him... ...

"Add five more seconds to that time, trooper." The clone at the helm looked up at Yularen for confirmation, but the admiral gesture for him to hold off.

"General...Even a spare few seconds in hyperspace might put us hundreds kilometers off target. I would suggest a more conservative count for entry into the system, we wouldn't want to hit the atmosphere."

"Sorry, Admiral. But for my plan to work, we'll need to cut it close." The older naval officer stared at the Jedi with serious doubt across his face. Anakin reassured him, "The Force is with us...I can feel exactly what to do."

Yularen looked back to the clone trooper and nodded with a frown. The ticker for the count down to realspace ran down and the trooper at the helm began proclaiming the count after six seconds... ...

"Entry to Real in five...four...three...two...one..."

"Drop out of hyperspace, NOW!!" The Jedi Knight bellowed, finding the whole bridge actions too slow.

The phantasm of blues whirled away as a screen of elongated stars appeared through the viewports around the bridge. Then the lines of light shorten to their normal point nature and the _Resolute_ found the looming blue globe that was Kothlis in front of him. Ahsoka heard the admiral gasp and turned her attention to Yularen. The naval officer had his arms spaced apart in surprise as a look of fright moved over his features. The Padawan followed Yularen's gaze out the starboard viewport and her features suddenly matched the admirals. A clone announced the source of the two's woe.

"Two Ymir-class frigates! One on port, nine hundreds meters, the other starboard, one thousand eighty!!"

"Fire cannons, **NOW**!!!" Ordered Anakin.

From the towering bridge, Ahsoka watched as dozens of blue shimmers zoomed from under view to the brown colored curved frigate, shot flaming holes into it's side. She turned a 180 to the opposing viewport to see the same happen to the other Ymir-class. Before long, the two ships were smoking and edging away from the _Resolute_, but it was too late. Ymir-classes exploded at nearly the same time, launching burning debris into the Star Destroy hull. The Togruta Padawan felt herself jump as particular large chunk hit the cruiser's shields, though she if that was why her heart was racing.

"Master...that was..._scary_... How did you do that?" The Jedi Knight moved beside his young padawan and patted the girl on the back.

"It's all apart of being a master, Snips." Ahsoka looked up at Anakin, not quite sure if he was serious or not. The older Jedi smiled, "Bet I can rank more tinnie fighers than you!"

"Your now!"

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Down on the planet, Carthar layed in the basement of a bombed out building as Sarge Ram carefully removed the young trooper's thigh plate. The underside of the white armor had be been penetrated by the IG-100's electrostaff strike, but the black bodysuit on the thigh was unharmed. The ARC checked it with fingers, somewhat forcefully and caused Carthar to groan a little. In the end, though, the sergeant related that bone wasn't broken.

"Your lucky" Ram continued, "But there still met be some internal bleed, so let's stay off of it."

"Right, sir."

"Ha, ha...You gave me a fright there, _vod'ika_." The ARC patted the younger clone's shoulder and smiled.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"None of that, now." The sarge's face straighten and had turned to the lieutenant, sitting a over turned crate looking down in the dumps, "Lieutenant, sir. You said that you knew who the spy in ranks was?" Czar gazed up at the elite clone, then to his clasped hands in front of him.

"It was man on my squad. He murdered a three clones and let the enemy deal with the rest."

"So you ran into a hard contact, too?"

"Yes, but I didn't see the action myself. I was on the roof of a building we were clearing when the spy struck."

"I can't believe he was on Kappa this whole time!" Carthar said as he squeezed his HALO between his hands, "A paratrooper, too. How could someone with that much training abandon his brothers and join the Seps."

"I wouldn't know, Private..." The clone officer was pretty quiet, the young trooper figured that losing an entire squad would have upset anyone. Sarge Ram kept pressing him, though... ...

"You said you **knew** who the spy was..." The ARC stood and took a few steps closure to the lieutenant, "Who is it? Did you kill him? Or did he escape somewhere??"

"Your awfully interested in this, Sergeant. Why?"

"My men are out there, now, and want to keep them safe... sir..."

Czar stared up at Ram again, a flash of interest crossed his eyes. The young trooper was concerned that the lieutenant was suspecting the sarge of being the spy. Well, Carthar could set him straight on that. The clone officer back down to hands, now separated and hang lose as he rested his arms on armored knees.

"It was Babes." Czar finally answered. The young trooper remembered that Kappa paratrooper, but didn't know him well enough to judge wheather or not was the type to defect. Then, again, Carthar didn't really understand why a clone what to leave the GAR.

"Babes, huh... " Ram related, looking down at the lieutenant with his chin up in the air. It was a odd gesture, "How did he access the com station during the signal lock down?"

"What are you talking about??" The clone officer gazed up at the ARC sergeant, as perplexed as Carthar.

"Ten minutes before we left base, someone sent a secure message through the com station via a datapad link. It seemed to go into empty space which I'm assuming was actually a Separatist ship."

"Where is this all coming from, Sergeant..." Czar was starting to fume, but the commando went on... ...

"The com station was locked down to prevent unwanted messages that would help zero in on station. Only an **officer** has the code to get past the security for a link...and Babes was a private."

"... He could have sliced-"

"Babes couldn't slice through a brown paper bag...sir... ..." The lieutenant eyes flowed away to the of basement, an expression of dissatisfaction upon his face.

"... ... And here I thought I doubt up on the link... "

Carthar's eyes widen and he took a hard breath inward. Was this really happening? Was it all true??? Czar...was the spy?!! The young trooper felt lucky that he was on the floor already, since he knew had would have fell back on his butt. And now, of all things to do, the lieutenant was **smiling**!!!

"You did all right!" Czar proclaimed as nodded a few times, "I guess that's why your the real deal and us who were trained after the fact can compare."

"Your a fool, _vod_. The Seps are just going to use and forget you." The clone officer speedily jumped straight up, erect. The ARC firmed his stance. Czar wasn't smiling anymore

"I'm fighting for freedom, so all clone brothers can live for themselves and not fight Palpatine's war!!" The lieutenant was screaming now. Carthar grabbed the WESTAR blaster rifle beside him, but didn't level it on Czar, "Your the fool, _**vod**_! We're slaves of the Republic's machine!! Your as blind as all the rest of the brothers in the army! I'm saving you and your little clone buddy there from injustice."

"Selling out to the enemy and killing your squad. Thank you...I feel much more free." Sarge Ram's eyes turned dark as he glared at the clone officer, "...You got me men kill... ..."

Czar left his arm and a shot a long, thin wire at the ARC with a bang, but the elite clone quickly threw his gauntlet in the way and let the wire slammed and attached into the armor quite harmlessly. The officer smirked. Suddenly a burst of electricity ran down the wire and into the Ram, prompt a scream as he fell to his knees. Czar made for the door up to the street, on the other side of Carthar. The young trooper froze, no training had prepared him for this. However, as the lieutenant passed the ARC, the commando shot out with his fist right into the clone's groin. The officer grunted, breathless, and scrambled away in the other direction. The plates protected that area, but they where never meant to keep the pain out.

There is no unfair fighting in war.

After a few moments, both clones were on their feet and facing each other. Suddenly, Czar charged as a viboblade popped into his hand from his gaunlet. Barehanded Ram veered the weapon arm away with his left hand, then gripped it in a hold. The clone lieutenant threw a punch his free hand, but the ARC caught it too. Gritting their teeth, both clones struggled to overcome the other in strength. Czar seemed to be winning and pushed Ram back a step. Without warning, the sarge bashed his forehead into the clone officer's nose and then planted a boot between him and Czar's chest. The lieutenant fell back, wipping his nose to reveal that it was leaking blood down to his chin. Then the officer really saw red. He yelled and leaped at the ARC, pinning down on the floor with a grunt. Czar thrust the viboblade down to caught by Ram's hand, just from this throut, but that was changing fast.

"Blast him!!" The sarge bellowed to Carthar, "Blast him, v_od'ika_!"

The young trooper leveled the blaster and hit it butt against his shoulder. He aimed at Czar, but Carthar stopped as his finger reached to the trigger. The clone's mind kept screaming definite things!

_His an officer! AN OFFICER!!!_, one part trumpeted, but the other howler, _Ram's going to die!! __**DIE**__!!!!!_

"_Ka'tra_!!!"

Carthar squeezed the trigger, a roar of cobolt bolts flew into Czar. The lieutenant looked up at the young trooper, inhaling a ragged breath. His eyes were filled with accusation as the viboblade slipped from his hand and landed harmlessly beside Ram. Czar fingered one of the still smoking blaster points across his chest, surprise filling his face. He stared at Carthar, then past him as the clone's body went limp and fell on the other side of the sarge. The ARC sighed...then groan and touched his side.

"Ahhh...I think I broke another rib..." Sergeant Ram pulled himself up, grunting and swearing all the way, until was standing again. He glance down at Czar and spat into his face, "..._Di'kutla dar'buir_... ..."

"Sarge...?" Carthar looked up at the ARC, his expression begging for something. The clone didn't know what, "Sarge...??"

"You did good, kid." Ram finally replied, but the young trooper was sure what he meant. He just shot an officer, "Let's get you to the LZ and on a transport."

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Aasisa moved about, the large field that served as the landing zone for LAAT. Everything was a mess! After hitting the atmosphere, the gunships received a com that Bothawui Avuene was compromised and they needed to good to zone two at Tal'cara Park. However zone two still need to be cleared of immediate threats, so the transports had to circle around enemy controlled airspace for an close to an hour until a man on the ground gave the okay. And they got to the LZ... get this, a crashed HMP was still burning. How did the recon squad bring that down?? When the major's LAAT landed, the men and her were met by a clone paratrooper named "Three-Twelve" (can you believe it) who commanded them to move AT-TEs to the western gate and the north western corner of the park. Tekshar asked if he was a the lieutenant from Raider Company... he was a private, the tech man. It was insane. A Gungan militiaman walked over to Aasia and pulled his hand up to his right eye in a salute.

"Majors! Mesa has report dum Cap'n Isibray." The major was hoping he was saying something about a report from Isibray, "Hese sayin' da _Resolute_ has'a come. Blow Sanie ta poodoo!"

"General Skywalker is here, then?"

"Yesa, ma'am."

Major Tekshar breathed a sigh of relieve. The 501st were still stationed on the _Resolute_, with Skywalker and his padawan, and that just tipped the scale to their favor. She glanced to the two clones that had arrived and were now be loaded onto a gunship with the rest of their squad. Most of them seemed wounded, each in variest degrees, but alive. The _Resolute's_ speedy arrival guaranteed that. Aasia smiled and continued watching them, as the kamas donned one pulled off his helmet. Then she frowned.

Across the way, Carthar was just finishing with quick Mando'a listen from the sarge as he was being loaded up into a LAAT with the help of a blue garbed militiaman from General Rahm Kota's militia. The word that Ram had him focus on now, didn't quite come out right... ...

"Kar..kartalar"

"No, no..._kar'taylir_. Look at how my lips are moving, _vod'ika_. _Kar'taylir_"

"K-kartayler...?"

"Ha...Just keep trying!" The sarge smiled.

"RAM!!!" Carthar looked past the ARC and saw a petite, black hair woman in her twenties trod over to the sergeant. She stopped a half a meter from Ram, place her hands on her hips and looked up at the clone, "What by the all encompassing Force are **you** doing here!!"

"Well it's a really funny and long story, Aasia...I was hoping that I didn't have to see you to tell." The sergeant grinned innocently, "...I guess I should start with part that I'm not dead!"

The petite woman, who also wear the blue fatigues of the militiamen, gave Ram a hard look. Suddenly, her whole body reared back and she slugged the sarge in grinning mouth, knocking him to his ass. Carthar sat up, the loading man stared in disbeliever, and several other soldiers about stopped and looked at the scene. The woman paid no mind, as she glared knifes into the struck clone. The ARC scrambled to get up. After fighting an assassin droid and getting into a life-or-death struggle with a clone, somehow that punch seem to really knock Ram good.

"Sarge, what the hell...?" The elite clone looked at Carthar and rubbed his chin. He looked back at the woman...still glaring knifes. Turning back to the young trooper, Ram answered... ...

"_Ka'rta_...I'd like you to met my ex-wife."

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_After the derange reunion, we packed up on the medical transport and blow it off of Kothlis. I watched the out the larty viewport to the shrinking city, jungle, continent, and finally the planet itself. The battle was over, at least for me, and was relieve beyond words._

_I instantly felt guilty... ..._

_Kothlis took a chunk out me, my sweat, my blood, my brothers, and a piece of my soul. I couldn't help but think that the same thing would happen to the next _vode _who came to clean up the mess planetside. I could do was work hard in the next battle, try to make better decisions, pray even. As a soldier, more importantly a clone, that was all I could do... ..._

_

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_Author's Note: Review!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: What's up George Lucas?!! Dude...if you think that I'm stealing your work because I want some MoNeY, your wrong. I'm just in love with Star Wars and want to make a fun fanfiction for my peeps. So all rights go to you, brotha, and Lucas Arts and Lucasfilms because their killer works!

Read & Review, peeps!!

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There was something about filtered air that put a clone at ease. Carthar thought that might have to do to Kamino's self-contained living conditions like in Su Des, the city the young trooper was born and trained from. It was in the northern hemisphere, an hour away by transport from one of the planet's small polar ice caps. The clone paratroopers brought to the ice cap for true blue arctic survival and battle training. Carthar remembered remembered when he returning from the polar cap how the air-conditioning hit his sweaty face. It was relieving sensation from the days and weeks of training in knee deep snow with termoskins protecting them from hypothermia, but also overheated their bodies. Su Des' constant room-temperture atmosphere was welcoming and that air-conditioning filtered smell made the young trooper feel at home again, just as he was feeling now on board the _Resolute_.

Carthar was in the cruiser's sickbay, sitting on one of the many medically oriented beds that encircled the room between flashing paneled equipment and computer terminals. The young trooper positioned himself at the end of the bed, looking up at the huge round lamp attached to swing-arm overhead. It was shut off, luckily, but many the other beds had their lamp turned and pulled over charred and beaten clones as surgical droids and organic doctors worked on them. It was tough site to watch, even knowing that they probably be okay with Republic carry, so Carthar studied the switched off medical lamp and focus on not noticing the bleeding brothers. The lamp looked like it was made from a clear, plastoid material and had ring indentments across it's flat surface. A whooping type of cry caught the young trooper's attentions from the lamp and Carthar looked across to the other side of the room. A trooper with a bandaged up face was failing his arms about, touching droids and surgeons as the rushed by him. The younger clone lowered his away from the site and clenched the red fabric of his pants as he felt his chest tighten.

_There's nothing wrong with me!_, Carthar thought wildly to himself, _I should get out of their way to a let some __**really**__ casualties get a bed._

It was true. Though the young trooper's leg still ached from his encounter with the mechanical assassin, however, when Carthar reached the landing pad on the _Resolute_ he was able to walk to the sick bay unassisted. The paratrooper even dressed himself in the standard crimson-colored clone fatigues they gave him as his armor was sent off to be mended. Carthar had being sitting on the bed for twenty minutes with little more than glances from the busy medical staff. The young trooper wanted to leave, but couldn't...he was ordered to stay... ...

"Was there a problem that you needed help with, Private?"

Carthar twisted his head to the side to find source of the comment, to which the clone immediately jumped up from the bed and stood at attention. It was the instinct pounded into the troopers whenever that caught site of brass on the chest, kamas on the belt, or traditional brown robes. All three were signs of an officer and this case it was the latter trio, a Jedi. Another element that the young trooper eyed was that the individual wasn't human Jedi..._blue skin_. It wasn't shocking, of course, since thousands of species across the galaxy had non-human pigmentation. Though see it for the first time caught his attention, it wasn't shocking. Neither were the facal markings. Golden lines, two small ones on the central forehead and four longer ones across each cheek, they stood broadly out against the blue skin. The shortly cropped hair was reminiscent of human, but it was in a light green. Though, other than those few differences, the Jedi was definitely a looked to be close to a human and a specific type of human at that... ...

A _woman_...

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_Women were definitely a new experience for all clones, no matter their training. Now I'm not taking about those stick Kaminoan ladies who were colder than Hoth. Or those Mando human female instructors who were more like another species all together. I mean __**women**__ women. No trooper was entirely prepared for that, including me, and we all fumbled through our first encounters like children on the playground._

_We were a pre-teen aged army, after all._

_We all might have been ten-year-olds, but the clones were adult men too. The _vode_ had their relationships with women that was standard for male of our species, human girls, Twi'leks, Zeltrons, and even the more exotic Near-Duro species. I not one judge, really, and clones were still individuals. We all did share the same appreciation for women, though. The single brothers had an healthy amount of envy for coupled clones and made an effort to get a girl of their own. The lucky _vode_...they treated their relationship like their personal religion. They __**worshiped**__ their women and those females deserved it, since they were crazy enough to fall for a clone trooper. We all loved our brother's girl, almost as much as we loved our brothers. I was saddened whenever a clone broke up with his girl. I think all felt that way, since we all viewed those spare couples as proof that clones were same flesh and blood as birth-born civilians._

_We ate up every bit of love in our relationships, maybe not out loud, but every bit still. And we would give it back with every last fiber to our women._

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Trotting through the _Resolute's_ corridors, with determined look upon her face, Aasia Tekshar was a woman on a mission. The situation on Kothlis had lighten, considerably, as many of the Sanyassan fighters were either surrendering or pulling back into the growth of the jungle. The paratroopers were shipping off and a Acclamator-class ship of the 85th Infantry Brigade was coming to take the reins of the planet. That is, until the Bothans security forces decide to step up to the task. It was annoying prospect for the Republic, though, the smartest move for Bothawui. Aasia pushed the thought to the back of her mind. The female officer had a certain clone ex to find... ...

The major knew her prey well, one of the few benefits of being married to the scum. She knew Ram would be coming down one particular hallway that directly connected the lower crew quarters, where the new healthy arrivals were being sent, and sickbay. Aasia stocked the corridor at even pace, keeping as though nothing at all was amiss with the woman, where as under the surface she burning up with rage. Suddenly Aasia saw him! The clone was where the standard red fatigues that the troopers were given on Kamino. Most wouldn't be able to see a difference, especially since the hallway was filled with dozens of ruby tunic and trousers. The tiny scars about Ram's cheeks might have helped the normal onlooker, but the major was able to see beyond that. Aasia recognized the clone from the rest by the way he moved. By the way he looked over the crowded corridor lazily, though alert. By the way Ram happily nodded to some that passed him and while other (superiors) received a looked of dutiful respect. Though the clone kept smiling no matter who. The man would grin at the drop of a hat, and he flashed the pearly whites in the most dire of moments. It was out of confidence, yes, but more offend to raise the spirits of those around him.

By the Force...Aasia hated him... ...

"_Ramikadu_!! You damn scum of a clone!" A good few stopped and looked at the major. Ram halted, however, he looked to either side of him as though the man didn't know who Aasia was yelling at. The bastard. The female senior officer trooped past the still clones to her target, many stepping out of the way in slight fright of the girl, "Don't think that I can't tell your ugly mug from the troopers! And don't you think that I'll stop because of all of them, either!!"

"...Ugly..." Ram finally responded after Aasia reach him, planting herself a foot from him, "Isn't that a little insulting to the rest of the _vode_? We all look alike... "

"Yeah, but you have that stupid looking grin!"

The clone glanced about him, groaning nervous dissatisfaction as he frowned at the site of their corridor audience. Aasia didn't care. She could have being as naked as her birth day, with nothing but her combat boots and a scowl, and the major would have stood firm until Ram started answering questions. Like...way was the clone here and not on a Aeten II, **dead**. Her clone ex, however, seemed more unease by the gawking troopers and went to push Aasia to a door nearby, whispering about more "private accommodations" for their talk. The female major squirmed bit, but none the less complied to the door as Ram hit the key pad next to it and let the hatch whoosh open. The clone lead Aasia in and shut the door. They found themselves in a large storage closet, housing an odd assortment of giant hyperdrive equipment and cleaning supplies. Ram was satisfied with just spoking next to the door, though, and pulled the senior officer behind a self of full of material.

"What is going on?!" Aasia insisted, waving her limbs outstretched as her fingers bend into her palms. The clone crossed his arms lossly in front of himself and looked down at the grey floor of the storage closet, searching for the proper answer.

"I'm guessing Captain Tawr told you that I dyed in Dreighton Nebula..." Ram related, keeping his eyes down to the deck, "The simple answer would be to say that I'm on a special mission."

"Are you saying that this whole thing was giant rose?" The female major felt her head shake in disblief. And that was just it...she didn't believe him, "I most be dreaming...You faked your death to infiltrate the **own **army???"

"Hardly faked...I almost did die on Aeten II. Most thought I did, so I took advantage the situation."

"To what? Pretend to be an ARC, working as a paratrooper." Aasia's clone ex snapped his head to her and glared knifes down at the major.

"I **am** an ARC!" Ram sounded more annoyed than angry, "Raw Jango and proud of it."

"So what drove the re-enlisting, _Alpha-Zero-six_?" The woman asked after she snickered a bit, "What would possibly make you want to join the clone cannon fodder again?"

"...The clone fifth column..."

"_What_?!" Aasia said in breathless tone, barely audible. The female senior officer was floored. She knew full well that was only one job in the GAR that dealt with clone spies and it involved putting a blaster bolt to their temple. Aasia could imagine the ARC willing hunting down his _vod_ brothers to assassinate them. The major grabbed the front of the clone's tunic, "Ram! There runaways just like you!"

"... ..." His eyes shut as a frown crossed his expression. The clone's pause was damnably in it's silence as the air of the unbearable washed over them. Aasia gripped harder on the tunic and pulled on it for an explanation. She gone none.

"Ram, how could you... ..."

"What? Now, suddenly, you're a support of deserter supporter?" Ram glance at Aasia with amused smirk, but it wasn't funny.

"You know I've changed." The major's fingers slipped back down to her side as shame filled her, "How couldn't I if I was with you."

"You know that you'd make any excuse to be with be, _Aasl'a_. Just admit it... ..."

"You insufferable, fierfekarking scumbag!!" The girl grasped Ram's collar and pulled the clone down to her, an inch from her face, "Your just a cocky, son of bitch, cloned from pile of fuming poodoo and not from Jango Fett!! I haven't a **clue** as to why I married you original!!!"

Aasia's clone ex simply smiled at her barking as a familiar twinkle shone in Ram's eye. Suddenly, the ARC wrapped his arms around the female major and pulled her against him. Simultaneous, Ram tilted his head and craned his neck down too catch between his puckered folds Aasia's top lip. The senior officer struggled for a second, squirming under the clone's hold, but she quick stopped and enveloped herself into the kiss. She pressed forward, standing on her toes as the major's arms pulled around the head taller Ram.

_This is way..._, Aasia answered in her mind her earlier question, _He can push me buttons, get me riled up, and change it into passion. I hate him...Why can't I remember that I hate him??_

Oxygen soon became an issue, but the two merely repositioned to other one's unattended lip and gasped for air as they moved. They changed from top to bottom folds, bottom to top. Each time taking in a quick breath of air that was almost as sweet as the kiss, itself... ... almost. Aasia pushed her hand up into the clone's hair, running her fingers across it's short length as Ram gripped small of the girl's back and pulled her closer. The female major press into the ARC more so, pushing him back further and further until Ram's back hit the storage closet's wall. The clone broke the lip-lock and cried out in sharp pain. Aasia let of him as Ram groaned and slide down the wall into low crouch, gripping his chest as he did so.

"Wh-What!! What's wrong!" The major's hand gentle wrapped the clone's face as her fingers nervously drew circles across his cheeks.

"I broke two..rrribs...down the planet... ..."

"You should be in sickbay!" Aasia pulled the ARC's tunic from over his to examine him, but found a long bacta rib-belt about the clone's chest already.

"Been there..." Ram related on an edged exhale, "Wrapped him up, good and tight. Gave me two bactade and told me to call them in the morning."

"It _is_ morning, you idoit!" The girl laughed, following it was a hopeless sob as she kissed the clone's forehead and hover there as she continued to speak, "I never stopped...thinking about you... Even after the divorce... ..."

"You agreed not to do this until after the war..." Aasia clearly heard the frown in the ARC's voice, "Don't make this harder than it is. Please."

The two felt pathetic, just crouching in a storage closet, in the grips of self-pity. However, they couldn't stand to move away from each other. A few more moments, another spare minute, that's all they needed. Right now, the Clone War was put on hold so that the two could enjoy each other for just a little longer... ...

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"Excuse me, ma'am" Carthar stood tensed up, his hand flat and touching his temple in a salute. The blue skin female Jedi blinked, twice, surprised by the young troopers actions. The clone went on with his explanation none the least, "My injuries are nothing serious. Permission to leave sickbay, ma'am...?"

"Now wait!" The Jedi held up her hand, halting the trooper, "I should be the one saying if your injuries are serious or not. I'm the healer here and I would imagine that a disabled clone isn't something that the army desires."

"Right..." The clone frowned and eased into a relaxed stance. Carthar's leg was screaming from the constant pressure of standing, but he dare not drop down to the bed behind him until he was ordered by the female Jedi to do so, "I'd like it if we could get his done soon, ma'am."

"I'd like it better if you didn't call me _ma'am_, Private." The blue skin healer retorted.

"Ok, sir."

"Ugh... ..." The Jedi dipped her head down and pinched the bridge of her noise, "I don't mean that either. My name is Bih-Li and I'm no officer to salute and call sir."

"... ...Okay..." Carthar studied the blue woman's face very carefully, looking to see if this 'Bih-Li' was actually serious. It most have been a joke of some kind, since ever Jedi in the Republic held a commanding officer's rank of some kind. The young trooper knew he didn't have much of a sense of humor, but this did seem all too funny of gag. He laughed away, "Ha ha ha...That's a good one, ma'am. You almost had me. All as clones are drilled to know that even Padawans are commanders in the GAR."

"*Sigh*...That's what I'm saying, Private!" Bellowed Bih-Li, "I am a Jedi, but I'm not a Padawan!!"

"General? Ma'am?"

"I'm not a Knight or a Master, either." Now the young trooper was confused. Carthar turned over what Bih-Li had told him over and over again, trying to find an answer, as he falling into a lull that consumed his entire body. The blue Jedi took advantaged of the lull and guided the clone back onto the medical bed, shaking her head and sighing as she did so. Before Carthar realized it, was on his back and looking up at blue Jedi's gold marked face as she hovered over him, "Okay...You're going have to have to help me out on this. Now where exactly do you feel pain... your name is...?"

"Carthar, ma'am..." The young trooper replied as Bih-Li's hands were held just above his body. As the clone was about to explain his injury, the female Jedi floated her hands down to his right thigh, right where the IG-100 droid had struck him, "It's right there. My armor took most of the hit and Sergeant Ram said there was any broken bones. I should be able to walk it off, ma'am."

"...It's little more than that, Carthar." The clone blinked at the answer. Now he was worried, like anyone would be with for their damaged limb. Carthar know it hurt, but pain wasn't the most acquire it measure for a wound. The trauma could have cut enough his nerves and he'd been walking on a shattered femur this whole time without knowing it. Bih-Li closed her eyes and gently touched the young trooper's leg. A fainted glow seem to magically appear around her blue hands as the female Jedi went on, "I can see why your sergeant thought it wasn't a broken... Just small fractures, most scanners wouldn't be able to register a intertrochanteric hip break this small. And if we didn't catch it now, I'm sure that they would lead to a major femoral neck fracture that would have needed surgery."

"Ma'am! Is it really that bad?!" The Jedi opened her eyes to glare at the for moment.

"I thought I told you to stop calling me _ma'am_. Are you one of the slow clones or something?"

"Right! Umm... Is it really that bad, **Bih-Li**?!" The blue woman smirked at the clone's frantic inquiry that had a fearful child-like tone to it.

"Not anymore!"

"What...?" Bih-Li removed her hands from the ailing limb as the light disappeared. Carthar looked down his leg, then back up to the Jedi, confused and feeling nothing. Wait...feeling nothing. The clone paratrooper's pounding ache that had pooled from his leg had vanished suddenly, like the feeling of a weight's pressure leaving as it is pulled away. Carthar gripped his thigh, mouth agape as he amazed over total disappearance of his pain. She had healed him...as the Jedi was jeering him, "I can't believe it. It doesn't hurt anymore!! Thank you, ma'am!"

"That's my job around here, Carthar. You don't need to thank me." The blue Jedi clasped her hand in front her as she formed her face into a serene expression, emotionless and peaceful. There was, however, the hit of prideful smile on her lips. The young trooper couldn't help but smile himself at her tiny conflicting moods. Bih-Li's face soon turned into a scowl as she put two fist on her hips, "Hey, wait! You called me _ma'am_, again!! If you really wanted to thank me, you'd remember that I wasn't an officer!"

"I'm sorry, really. I just not sure where I stand with you in the army."

"You and me both, Carthar...*sigh*..." The blue Jedi grimaced as her shoulders fell. The clone pulled himself up and off the bed, to the side of Bih-Li, feeling somewhat effected by the girl's down trot demeanor, "Carthar, your one of the first clones I've met, so I don't think you know the situation with us in the Jedi Service Corps. *Sigh* We're not quite Jedi in the eyes of the Order... ..."

"I do remember hearing something about the Service Corps during training. It's where all the masterless Jedi younglings go if they don't get selected to be a Padawan, right?"

"That's right. Those Jedi Trainees who have a problem with their emotions normally go to the Service Corps." Bih-Li stared down at the gray deck under her feet as her tone became lighter, "And those of us who don't have significant midi-chlorian counts are also sent. The Reassignment Council thought that I couldn't serve to the full extent of a Knight with my super-low count." Carthar frowned as he watch the lamenting blue girl (even if he had mere decade of life, Bih-Li was just a nineteen-year-old girl to the clone). There was something about her face that made it such a tragedy for her to look sad. Soon, though, the Jedi turned more somber and gripped his arms as she looked to the other side of sickbay. The young trooper followed Bih-Li's gaze and saw a sleeping clone, heavily bandage yet seemed restful, "I'm happy with what I do, though. I have a natural flair for sensing other one's pains and healing them through the Force. The Medical Corps improve my skills to where I can help even the farthest gone beings. I'm grateful for the choices of the Order and the will of the Force."

Carthar continued to watch the female Jedi, remembering how a number of clone paratroopers complain about about their choiceless situations. Then they would stand for a moment, with the same stoic face as Bih-Li, and simple accept their lives as what was best for their brothers. The young trooper found that behavior very respectable, even if he thought a clone's life was full of purpose. He felt the same way about the blue girl's behavior as well, something to look up to. A thought suddenly crossed Carthar's mind that made him laugh, quite fervently and loud. Bih-Li stared at the clone with cocked eyebrow... ...

"...What's with you???"

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to say "ma'am", ma'am." The young trooper giggled as he try to calm himself, "Or at least 'sir'!"

"Carthar, I'm not an officer."

"Yes you are, ma'am. Your attached to the _Resolute's _Republic Mobile Surgical Units, right?" The girl nodded, though wasn't following, "Rimsoos are apart of the army and there aren't any enlisted personal in them, their all officers. Even the nurses have rank over clone privates!"

"So all this time, I've been telling clone troopers to disobey their training?" Bih-Li looked dumbstruck, almost shameful.

"Well, ma'am, I would guess most clones just **choose** to view what you said as a command. Next time they see you, they'd probably go back to 'ma'am' or 'sir'."

"...and all this time I thought it was my good bedside manner."

"Techinically, I would say that being in Jedi Order makes you a First Lieutenant, ma'am."

"Is that a...important rank?"

"You'd have to have clone commander or higher to counter-act your order." The trooper responded with absolute confidence. Bih-Li blinked in disbelieve, opening her mouth as though to object but no sound came out, "That is the lowest rank in the Jedi can have in the GAR, ma'am. Even someone in the Service Corps should have that position."

"That doesn't mean I like it!" It was Carthar's turn to blink. The female Jedi crossed her arms in front of her and scowled down at the floor, "Rank is just going to get in the way of treating my patients. If a clone trooper just sucks up his pain and salutes me, I can't figure out what is wrong with him. The Force only tells me only so much..." Bih-Li looked back up the young trooper and smiled, "Thank you, Carthar. Your the first person to tell me straight out that I was lying. Now I won't make that embarrassing ignorant comment an more!"

The young trooper nodded and averted his eyes to side as he fidgeted a bit, pulling on the sleeves of his tunic. The blue girl's gratitude shot a mixture of boyish jovially and child-like awkwardness. It was perplexing for Carthar, especial feeling his cheeks heat up and his chest tingle. The clone wasn't too scared, though. Was right in front of him Bih-Li and if she had noticed something was wrong, she'd help him and spent her time nursing him back to health. For some reason, that made the young trooper flush more so. Carthar's gawky demeanor was soon eclipsed by his training and the clone paratrooper gave a more formal response to Bih-Li.

"That's fine, ma'am. I'm happy to help you out." As the seconds went by, it was harder to talk to the female Jedi, "So, if you could...just say the word, ma'am...then I could go back to my unit."

"Ugh! I'm not going to get use to being called _ma'am_." Bih-Li ran her fingers through her short green hair in display of toilsome, total unaware of the clone's continued discomfort of presence, "Carthar, your definitely someone I don't want to be calling me _ma'am_! My friends call me **Billie**."

"Billie... " The young trooper tried the name out with his own tongue. It remained the clone of his fellow _vode_ nicknames, though Carthar could not image Jedi healer needing a simple call sign for use in the heat of battle.

"I want you to consider a friend, Carthar. And for you to consider me as a friend." The clone wasn't quite familiar with Billie's use of 'friend'. It did quite fit with the similar military term 'friendly'. There was something more personal about it, by the way she was saying it. Carthar immediately wanted to be the best 'friend' that the blue girl could hope for.

"I do consider you a friend...Billie" This no ma'am or sir stuff is going to be hard, "and I want you to consider me the greatest friend ever."

"Aaahhh...Carthar..." Billie touched the clone's shoulder with a big smile across her face, "That's so sweet. Thank you."

The young trooper beamed with pride and joy. His first few moments of being a friend and Carthar seem to have a nack for it. If the clone kept his pace, he would become an even better of a friend to Billie, which would mean... ...something. Carthar didn't know what that meant, but it sound nice. Without a warning, the sickbay doors slice open and a whole troop of people rushed in the large room. Carthar notice that it was mostly standard clone troopers, nearly eight of them with two others. The others being a young female Togruta, if the paratrooper remembered correctly from his manual, and the clone medic Uncle with his unique gray hair. The whole group was carrying someone, but Carthar could not tell who. Billie made a dash over to the group as they reached a bed on the other side of sickbay. The young trooper followed behind her, half so to see what the ruckus was about and half to follow the blue girl. By the time Bille and Carthar got over their a Bith dressed in green pants and a short sleeved tunic had arrived and was checking on who ever was on the bed. The group was blocking the view, so their was no why of know by site only.

"What's happening, Ahsoka?" Billie asked, tipping the shoulder of the Troguta. The young girl turned met the blue Jedi was a disdressed, though calm face.

"Billie! It's been crazy down on the planet." The Troguta answered, using the Jedi's my-friends-call-me name. Carthar surmised that she too was a friend of Billie's. It somewhat put the clone off, but pushed the though of a rival aside to focus on who was on the bed. Ahsoka continued, "There's a lander on Kothlis jamming all communications to and from the planet, so we've had to use pilots as runners from ship to surface. My master told me to go to the all command bases and tell them to send all their wounded to the _Resolute_."

"The _Dauntless_ moved to the other side of the planet, right." The blue girl remarked a loud.

"When I got to the last base, I got caught up in transporting this critically injured trooper." Ahsoka gestured towards the bed, still block by clones, "You can't imagine the trouble we had just to keep him breathing!"

"I've been there, Ahsoka. Many times..." Billie reassured the Troguta girl, "You shouldn't worry, though. We have all the necessary resources to patch him up, good as new!"

"This trooper has been out for nearly a week." Uncle related to the Bith as the young trooper listen, "A head injury about five days ago when the fighting started. He's been on a breathing machine for that time and was giving manual resistation on the larty up."

"... ..." The alien was silent as he waved an odd, flashing device around the trooper's head. That was what Carthar could see at least, "This clone is practically a corpse! His pulse is so faint!!" The younger clone swallowed hard. Something about all this effecting him more so than any of the other cases in the sickbay, "I need two hundred Ce-Ces of adrenal strength! Prep the cloning tank for a bone graft, five-square-centimeters."

"He'll need a full bacta treatment after surgery" The older paratrooper demanded to the Bith, "and well need to do more than plugging up the hole in his head."

"We'll do want we can, Private."

The Bith turned as a medical droid came over with long needle connected to his robotic arm. The troopers step aside to let the droid do it's duty and Carther could finally see who is was on the bed. It was the one clone he was indebted to, the one the young trooper felt that he betrayed...it was Pro...still in the land between life and death, struggling to stay on the life side.

Carthar knew then he had to leave, regardless of orders. Billie blinked as her new clone friend suddenly rushed away, without saying a word... ...

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In far off Tyrius system, some ways from the planet Rodia, a medium sized vessel made it's slow glide towards the swampy rock. The half rusty gold, half bright orange box-like spaceship pushed gentle through the near empty void, only a lone blue gas giant kept the transport company. In the cockpit, a spar two manned the vessel's controls as they piloted the ship leisurely around the gas giant to Rodia and the millions of hungry Rodians in their cities. The pair were both dark green Rodians, themselves, as was the whole crew of the _Copper Vulture_ and they were on a mission of mercy for their muddy homeworld. The entire orange portside of their transport was in actuality a massive container, filled to the brim with food supplies that cost the Rodian crew a pretty penny. It hadn't matter, though, because it was about saving Rodians. Despite the hefty load, the supplies weren't hardly enough for a whole planet of starving people. Perhaps it was enough for one city, but wouldn't matter if it was only feed a spar few, it was worth it.

The _Copper Vulture_ pulled around the giant blue ball and the cockpit was filled with beam local star of the system, a moment of near blinding light that was quickly subdued by the viewport's automatic tinting. The male Rodian at the helm studied the black void around the star. He could make out his homeworld from their distance and the sun's light, but that was what guidence equipment was for. A few waves of his suction-cup fingers and the Rodian had the vessel on course for the swampy planet. The alien helmsman could finally fill at ease again with their passing of the blue gas giant, Pirdia. It marked the end of a very important area, that had a lot to do with the _Copper Vulture's_ mission. Pirdia marked where the pirate attack zone ended and where Rodian Judicial Defenses started. The local Judicial were suppose to patrol the whole system, but pirate attacks had been so dispersed and spread out that the Judicial simply gave up. The entire outer part of the system was left to the pirates and the Judicial focused on the inner system. It worked and any ship that passed into the Judicial' zone was guaranteed passage to Rodia.

"Rodian Judicial patrol to unrecognized vessel..." The comlink jumped from the Rodian helmsman's console, "Prepare to rendezvous and identification. Transmit ID data now, or prepare for rendezvous and engagement."

"This is the civilian transport, _Copper Vulture_" The helmsman speedily replied over the com, clicking a few controls to align their communication dish, "Sending ID data now."

"... ...Data received. Your cleared, _Copper Vulture_. We're all glade to see a supply ship after all this time. We'd thought those kriffing pirate scums scared any supply vessels away."

"For Rodia, we'd break through a military blockade!"

"Expect escorts in twenty four minutes. Out."

Then Judicial signal cut out and the Rodian helmsman leaned back to relax. With the guidance computer set and Judicial ships coming to escort them planetside, it was smooth sailing. It was time for one of those rare instances nowadays where spacer could take a second to breath. With the Republic and the Separatists constantly pushing across the Outer Rim, one could see how peace had became as scarce in stock as food was on Rodia...maybe more so. The Rodian homeworld had it's guaranteed protection from the CIS with it's position in the Senate and on the only main hyperspace lane for more than seven sectors.

The Republic would never simple gave Rodia away without a real fight, though some Separatist supporters called for secession and joining the Confederation's "cause". Starving Rodians and the Republic's ignorance of the crisis only helped the supporters ambitions. Their massive container of food would no doubt stamper those ambitions, though crew of the _Copper Vulture_ did really care. It was all about feeding hungry Rodians. Suddenly a loud bang sounded from the front of the cockpit, just above the helmsman's head. The alien looked up, as did he's follow Rodian from his spot near the rear, but neither found any source to the bang.

"What was that?" The crewman asked, turning to Rodian at the helm.

"Perhaps a micro-meteor hit the hull?" The helmsman was just as bewildered.

The two both stared out the front viewport, searching for the cause of the disturbance. As they surveyed the void outside, a crimson object popped into view from top part of the window. The Rodians blinked as the round, red object peered back at them from it's glass T-shaped visor. One the aliens stood from his chair, amazed as the object expanded into view to become humanoid configured entity. The helmsman remained seated as a full set of ruby-colored Mandalorian armor, to which the Rodian surmised held a soldier inside, step onto the glass. The Mandalorian was staring down at the two crewmen between his feet, upside down through the viewport. The Rodians were shocked and found that they could of nothing else but watch the armored stranger gaze at them from outside the ship. The Mandalorian shifted it's position and the a dual pronged electrostaff became visible in the warrior's hands. For a second...nothing happened. The Mandalorian and Rodians continued to staring at each other. Then a second later, the crimson armored stranger flipped his staff around in this hands, aimed it's head between his feet, and reared the weapon up... ...

_**CRUUNNCH**_!!!!!

The electrostaff came crashing down, smashing into the viewport with tremendous force as sparks leapt from the head. A web of cracks developed quickly where the staff hit and were slowly slithering across the glass. The Mandalorian had already jumped off of the viewport and was floating ahead of the transport as the cracks reached the edges of the viewport. All of a sudden, the viewport dissolved away and the cockpit was opened to the vacuum of space. A deafening torrent of blowing wind enveloped the cabin as the air was sucked out into the void. The Rodian helmsman grasped onto the console in front of him as the windstorm threaten to pull him out into the vacuum, his hands straining to stay a hold to the metal as the alien felt his legs being thrown up above him.

The other crewman clung to the back to one the bolted down chairs, his small slit of a mouth open in what his fellow Rodian assumed was a scream. The helmsman watched, in helpless horror, as the other crewman's hands slipped and he flew out of the cockpit's open viewport, into the void. Suddenly the red armored Mandalorian rocketed pass the Rodian and into the cockpit, a jetpack shooting out flames out the back and pushing the soldier against the wind. As the Mandalorian landed, it's gaunlet lept out and struck a command console. A panel of durasteel jumped up across where the viewport glass had been and the storm ceased. The Rodian helmsman fell down across the console he had been grasping to, landing prone onto the controls that poked into his stomach. The breath had been knocked out of the alien's lungs in a loud grunt. He could move. The Rodian's eyes clenched shut as they filled with water from intense windstorm. The crimson Mandalorian didn't seem to be phased at all, though. The armored stranger stood up and trod over to the helm, focused on his task, and threw the Rodian to the floor to get at the consule controls. The soldier's gloved hands moved from button to switch, punching commands to the ships engines and thrusts: Full stop. The Rodian helmsman found himself too incapacitated to do anything, save lay in a heap on the deck. The Mandalorian seemed to relax, his task complete, then it turned to the helmsman.

"Do we need hostages?" The soldier inquired in the deep voice of a male, however the Rodian didn't think he was talking to him. The Mandalorian tiled his head to the side slight, as though listen carefully to some sound, "Confirmed."

With that, the armored stranger grabbed the helmsman's collar and pulled the alien across the floor to the hatch at the rear of the cockpit. The hatch slid open and the Rodian found the whole corridor of the ship had erupt into chaos. Dozens of red armorer Mandalorians, similar to his captor, were rushing into in rooms along the corridor that made up the _Copper Vulture_, pulling out Rodian crewmen out of quarters at blaster point. A few crimson soldiers were carrying extra equipment from supply closets and piling it up near the open air-lock where the armored hordes were pour in from. A couple crates from the conjoining food container was with the pile as more Mandalorians started hauling the assort into the air-lock.

The helmsman suddenly realized what was happening. These soldiers were the raiding pirates and **Mandalorian** pirates at that. They were the ones terrorizing the system and cut off Rodia's supplies all this time. The Rodian gripped the strong hand on his collar and struggled to get free from the armored stranger. He had little to no success and Mando continued to yank the helmsman across the floor. His captor pulled the alien to another Mandalorian who was simply standing in the middle of the corridor, surveying the pandemonium of the ship. This Mandalorian was too wearing blood ruby-colored armor, along with a sleeveless black robe with gold trim and that fell to this shins. With his helmet held at his side, the Rodian could see the human Mando's white crew cut hair and scarred face. The helmsman's captor threw the alien at the robed soldier's feet and stood up straight in a presentation to the other Mandalorian.

"Hail! Mandalore!!" The Mando captor bellowed from under his T-visor helmet. The robed one smirked with his yellow teeth beaming.

"Well done, Chop'aa." The armored leader announced, "You've proven to be a most competent lieutenant, almost as good as me. Keep it up and may have to kill you."

"I'll keep that in mind, Lord Montross." The robed Mandalorian turned to gaze at the effort with the pile of equipment and crates. This 'Lord Montross' watched the crimson soldiers carry the plunder into the air-lock with apparent glee, no doubt estimating the amount of credits he could get from the assortment. The lieutenant, Chop'aa, spoke up again, "The Trade Federation should be pleased with this raid. This far into the Judicial zone will show that only military vessels can make it safely to Rodia."

"And then the Federation will have their alliance and the Confederation it's new planet..." Montross went on in a board demeanor, "...and then we won't have to put up with those slimy Neimoidians any longer. How I like to ring one of those overgrow vermin damn green necks. Sobs and bastards... ..." The robed the Mandalorian bring his gantlet up to his chin and clicked his comlink, "Prepare the gunboat. We have seventeen minutes until the Judical escorts come." Dropping his arm, Montross twisted and looked down at the Rodian helmsman, "Your no Neimoidian...but your little green neck with have to do... ..."

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After five days of fighting and five days of rain, the storms on Kothlis had finally ended. The citizens of Tal'cara city emerge from their shelters to a damp world of destroyed broken glass, crumbled cultural buildings, and destroyed homes. But the skies were clear and the Bothans on Kothlis were hopeful for the future, if a little down because of their trashed capital. General Rahm Kota walked the streets near one of the larger shelters, watching the Bothans already at work cleaning up the avenues. The senior Jedi's militiamen were patrolling across the street from Kota, along with a few clone paratroopers to help give the patrols a lay of the city. The white armored covered clones with the blue fatigue soldiers picked at the Jedi. He felt that the mass-produced men would reduce the patrols effectiveness, drop the edge of the birth-born troops with their programed training. Yes, they did defend Tal'cara all this time with limited supplies, but would they fight like that in the next battle. To Kota, clones had no future to struggle for and thus no animal desire to win. That helped the general in the trenches of Bogden all those years ago to survive and pull out a victory. It was many times the same thing in war, and something Kota never could image the clones of understanding.

As the Jedi General moved down the pavement, he came upon a Bothan woman struggling remove some piece of furniture from some rumble. Her clothes suggested that she was from one of the lower clan families, though that didn't quite mean poor in their culture as much as...less influential. The Bothan woman's three children were watching their mother pull the furniture with little success, oldest probably not even six. A human militiaman noticed the woman's struggle and rushed over to her, followed be a clone trooper. Both soldiers offered their assistance, but the woman suddenly started yelling... ...

"You do not help! You bring us **death**!!" The Bothan woman's broken Basic was actually better then most, "Go die for Republic somewhere else!!"

"Hey, lady! We're the ones would saved your furry asses!!" The militiaman frustrated, more so from the combat than the comment, "You think this just the Republic's war! Your kids would be the ones digging _you_ out of the rumble!"

"Sir, calm down!" The Jedi cocked an eyebrow as the clone took command of the situation, "They've been tell us that kind of stuff since we got here. Yelling back doesn't do anyone any good."

By then, the Bothan's children had assembled around the woman and cling to their mother, fearing the soldier's wrath. The militiaman was speechless as the site alerted him to his unstable behavior. He apologized to the scowling Bothan woman as did the clone paratrooper, despite doing nothing, and the two trod off to catch up with rest of their patrol. The Senior Jedi General reviewed the scene again, silently in his mind. It only proved that the clones' emotionless nature was benefit in some circumstances, nothing more. Where the Jedi used the Force, an infantry soldier used his emotions to push them through a battle. It was necessary for them to get angry and their commanders to focus that angry onto the enemy.

As Kota thumbed through the psychology of the battlefield, the familiar call of the Force touched his mind. It was a fluctuation in the universal energy field that "tug" (for lack of a better word) the general west from the street he was on, towards the remnant of enemies line. There was something special about it. The feeling seem to fade in slightly and quietly become unnoticeable, before fading in again. It was close to how very older and peaceful would pass on at their deathbeds, quietly become undetectable through the Force. But how this feeling faded back in ever so often that differed from deaths of the old. There was something else, too... ...

_What is this I'm sensing..._, Kota searched his feelings, remembering everything that his master and life as a Jedi had taught him about the Force, _I haven't sensed this since... ..._

The Senior Jedi gasped! He ripped his head to the west, a spike of shock running down Kota as he recalled precisely what he was feeling. The general sent a surge of the Force into his legs and raced off, like a bolt of lighting, to the where he was being tugged. The ruined city passed by Kota in a blur, dodging rumble and troopers as he went. Soon the former front became visible, the lack of standing builds and abundance of crater holes marked it clearly. The Force was telling the Jedi to ahead towards a clump of upright buildings, nearly untouched from the fighting. As Kota closed in onto the buildings, he ignored the stairs and took a Force powered leap to the top of one of the lower roofs. Landing on the top, the Senior Jedi retracted his lightsaber from harness on his back and immediately igniting the weapon as he stood. Across the roof sat a figure in dark robes, on ground with his legs folded neatly as though meditating.

"So we meet once again..." The general proclaimed, Kothlis' fast setting sun cast the scene in dark orange. Only the ember glow from the Jedi's saber fought off it's cast, "Sora Bulq. One of Dooku's dogs."

"Rahm Kota...a prideful student from the Temple." Bulq remained still, but his golden brown eyes shown at the Jedi from beneath his hood, "Yes, I remember you. A student of Master Yoda...you started your training much later in life than most and had the great potential of fall to the dark side of Force. Had the Council not act, you would have joined the Sith as we'll."

"At that time, was a much closer to the dark side than I care to admit." The Jedi moved with elegant ease into a classical offensive position of Soresu form of saber combat. The fearsome Dark Acolyte pulled himself up and simultaneously ignited to crimson beams, taking a defensive stance, "And now we meet again...the tables turned one eighty. When we last met, I was but a leaner...now **I** am a master."

"Only a master of fools, Kota!"

Bulq raced forward, sabers cross in front of him, dissolving the distance between him and the Jedi in a instant. Kota checked the move a second before it struck, waving his weapons blade up and divide the crossed beams. The counter changed into an attack as the general thrust his saber at Bulq's face. The Weequay spun and easily slipped away from the ember beam before it came close, swinging his red blades as he turned and sending an arch at the Jedi. Kota, though, saw the attack coming and had leapt up into the air just as the Acolyte's lightsabers came around. The Jedi Master landed a few meters away, just in time to block a double blow from Bulq who followed Kota as he flew. The general knocked the Weequay's blades away and stretched his free at Bulq, sending the Acolyte back a ways with a Force Push. The Jedi continue with the offensive and raced after Bulq with his green saber raised above his head for a devastating downward slash. The Dark Acolyte, however, had recovered as Kota closed. In a feat of grand acrobatics, the Weequay jumped up into the air, spinning at the Jedi Master, and let the momentum of his falling body bring strength to his counter attack. Kota was forced to halt and hold a defensive stance as the Acolyte came down on him with blow like a Krayt Dragon. As Bulq's feet met the ground, the strength fell from the blades and the general flicked the crimson beams away, throwing a series of slashes at the Weequay. The Dark Acolyte was pushed back as he blocked and parried the torrent of strikes. A quick thrusting blow from Bulq ended Kota's assault as the Jedi leapt back to avoid.

The two warrior stood apart from each other, that any moment to rest up from each others strikes and size one another up for the next attack. Kota hold the hilt of his laser sword hovering in front of his stomach, pointing it's green glowing blade at the Acolyte, ready to defend any coming slices. Bulq was in his on defensive stance, his short shoto lightsaber held across the front of his chest. The Weequay's longer sword was held loft above his head, it's beam parallel to the shoto's. Perfectly still, the pair continued to watch each other in silence, remaining that way for much longer than the initial fighting length of the dual. Suddenly, the two launched themselves at each other, moving simultaneously in the attack. In the middle the roof, Kota and Bulq met, clashing green against red. An phantasm of blurred lightsabers danced around them as they slashed and parried and thrust at each other. The Dark Acolyte whirled about on this heels and knocked another slice from the Jedi Master, then erupted into the infamous techniques of Vaapad form. Bulq's arms and blades seemed to swift into eight, each crimson lightsaber whirling in the Weequay's hands. The general gasped and skidded back in a retreat. Kota was well aware of Vaapad, invented by Master Windu and the Acolyte when Bulq still served the Jedi Order. It was said that it was less of a fighting style, but a state of mind in which one focusing on the joy of the fight. The Jedi could see the edges of Weequay's mouth turn up in slight smirk as he advanced on Kota. The Senior Jedi General gave up on besting the Dark Acolyte with sabers and reverted to tactics.

As Kota backed away and turned to circle, he noticed that the Weequay put much of his focus on the Jedi and the pleasure of taking the upper hand. Bulq was not paying any attention to his footing. The general was quick to act on this and reached out with the Force, touching the stone tiles on the path the Acolyte was across over. Pushing and pulling at each bond between the atoms, weakening their attraction until it happen. The Weequay's foot stomped down a tile and the stone shattered underneath Bulq and his leg fell into a hole through the roof. The Dark Acolyte gasped and looked down, the general took advantage of this charge at the Weequay with his saber held high. Bulq turned his head up just as the Jedi neared and Kota saw his golden brown eyes switch to blood red. The Weequay outstretched his arms and palms, sending out an earsplitting scream as a wave of dark side energy plowed into the Jedi Master. Kota's charge was halted from the wave's power and he struggled against it. Bulq howled again and the black wave double in ferocity, launching the Jedi in a backwards tumble. The general rolled over himself several times, losing site of his senses and hold of his lightsaber. The rolls ceased and Kota collected himself, looked up to see Bulq running at the Senior Jedi with crimson blades to bare. With no other weapon other than the Force, the general slapped his hands onto roof. The origin the connection Kota had used on the tiles was tripled and the stone warped before, bulging up. Like the sea hitting the shore, the bulge raced forward and grew as it came towards Bulq, becoming a hill and then a mountain. The Dark Acolyte pressed on, none the less, zooming up to the crest of the moving mountain and lept off it at the Jedi, a yell on his breath. A clashed of red and blue suddenly appeared in the air and the hissing of lightsabers meeting followed. Kota watched as Bulq landed back onto the hill he made and a second figure jumped down in front of him, a sky blue blade shining in front of him.

"Is this a private dance or can anyone join in?" The dirty-blond Jedi Knight proclaimed, lightsaber held aloft above his head as the figure took a defensive stance in front of Kota.

"Skywalker..." Bulq spite behind clenched teeth, sending the young Knight a pierce. Anakin merely smirked at the Weequay.

"So nice to hear that my reputation is will know by Dooku's dogs!"

"Lord Dooku scorns your name, but you should not be worth of his curse." The Dark Acolyte crouched down and crossed his arms to hold his sabers to his flanks, "Your renowned arrogance is what I recall from my peers. Almost as arrogant as the Jedi Order itself...equally as weak, though."

"I'll show you just how powerful I am-" Anakin was about to leap at the Weequay, but a hand grabbed his arm and stopped him. Turning the young Knight found Jedi Master Kota... ...

"Don't give into him, boy. His prodding you to attack him and get you into frenzy." The general turned to where his lightsaber had fallen, reaching out to it and pull the weapon back into his hand. Standing next to Anakin, the Senior Jedi ignited his ember saber and readied himself, "Beware of the anger of the mind, boy. The wise who control their body, tongue, and mind are indeed well controlled."

The Weequay former Jedi sneered at the duo, then touched a spot on his forearm. It blinked with a tiny light. Immediately after the roof shook under them, as did the buildings around them. To of the structures fell away and a wall of durasteel, painted in a grey and dark blue color scheme, rose from the to the level of the roof. As the wall continued to float up into the air, becoming the familiar shape of a C-9979 lander of the Separatist fleet. The lander's doors opened and Bulq lept from his place on the hill, jumping to the craft's extented ramp. Anakined growled and the Jedi Master and himself raced after the Dark Acolyte. Suddenly a roar of a blaster bolts rained from the lander's open bay as squad of battle droids fired upon the to Jedi. Kota and Anakin skidded to a hault and started batting crimson bolts with their sabers, all the while the Separatist craft pulled up into the sky, until it was gone from view.

"No! They got away!" The young Knight deactivated his lightsaber and held up his gaunlet mounted comlink, "Admiral Yularen, come in. Admiral Yularen!!"

"It's no use, boy." Kota related, "The lander is still scrambling our signals. Bulq's gone... ..." Anakin winced and turned, walking speedily towards the edge of the roof.

"If we hurry to our ships, we can still catch him-"

"Our fighters on the otherside of the city, skywalker!" The general was amazed by the tenacity of his younger fellow Jedi. It disturbed him, "By the time we get into orbit, Bulq will have slipped by our forces and jumped away."

"We can't just sit here. We have to try and go after him! It's better than staying here and doing nothing!!"

"We're here to security safety of this planet, boy!! What we will do **is** stay and then report to the Council. That's our _duty_, as Jedi!"

"...*sigh*...Your right...I'm sorry, Master Kota."

The pair of Republic warriors stared up into the sky, as the light slowly faded from the horizon. The twingles of stars shone in the darks aparts of the sky, sparking down on the hollow vicetory of Kothlis... ...

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Author's Note: I really can't tell if anybody is reading his story without reviews. Not to sound arrogant, but it is possible that people are reading his and are not review because it's so good in their opinion that a review is not necessary. It's possible.

It's also possible that people will only read this if I put a Ahsoka/Anakin pair in it... ... I hate Ahsoka/Anakin pairs... ...

Anyway, Review!!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Didn't know if you knew, but I'm not George Lucas! In fact, I'm not Lucasarts or Lucasfilms either!! Wow! So I guess...all the rights of Star Wars goes to them and not me! You learn something new every day.

Note: Read & Review!

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With a vast sea of stars as it's backdrop, a dull gray space fighter zoomed through the reaches of the void. The Belbullab-class starfighter of General Grievous, _Soulless One_, was tugging away across a system in the backwaters of the galaxy. The cybrog general had been in hyperspace for hours in the cramp fighter, every since his hidden communications station was destroyed at Ruusan, and was just now reaching the secret location of Count Dooku's command ship. In reference to where Grievous had began, the system was on the other side of the galaxy and that was no small distance to travel, despite _Soulless One's_ advance hyperdrive. Though, main delay for the cyborg general was eluding over half the galaxy's eyes and ears, as Republic forces desperately tried to capture (or plain out kill) the two meter tall metal covered Kaleesh.

Dooku's frigate loomed near a close by ice field, colossal chunks of frozen snow and dusty numbering in the thousands formed a belt in the system. Many the chunks were as big as the frigate, which wasn't truly an bigger than any other frigate in the Separatist fleet. In fact, it looked like any of the thousands of Munificent support ships that spanned the CIS Navy...a great advantage to one who wishes to command behind the lines. Like a Malastare Vine Serpent, the command frigate would appear defenseless and unable to put up a fight by itself. Then it would strike! The vessel's guns, shields, and engines out-classed anything in the Republic. Grievous veered his starfighter closer to the ship and promptly received a holographic message... ...

"_Soulless One_...IDENTIFY YOURSELF!!" The B1 battle droid declared as it's form appeared from the holoemitter.

"**IMBECILE**!! Why would you ask me that! You clearly have my identification transponder!!"

"Well, how was I suppose to know if you were General Grievous or not. It could have been someone _else_ in the ship." The cyborg's verbolizor growled as his durasteel finger pierced the droid's tiny holographic head. Had they been in the same room, the general wouldn't have stopped from literally doing so to the B1's real head.

As Grievous neared the underside of the frigate, he noticed an odd protrusion from the hull that seemed to be a separatist lander, docked to the large vessel. C-9979 transports were common around the fleet, anyone had access to them, but Dooku's command frigate was in no way open to all. Only the most trusted of Separatist Council members knew that the ship even existed, even fewer were welcomed aboard. CIS armed forces commanders received a similar treatment and Grievous suspected that even Dark Acolytes could not simply board without good reason.

Soon, the cyborg general reached the frigate's main hanger and had settled _Soulless One_ down into a landing. The lights in his starfighter related to Grievous that immediate area was clear and the hanger had repressurized, though oxygen was never major issue for the robotic Jedi-Hunter. The fighter's canopy slid open and the cyborg general lifted himself free from the tortuously small cockpit. Most beings would need to navigate their footing across the starfighter's hull before being able to touch the deck far below. Grievous merely stretched out his leg and stepped out of the cockpit, his long mechanical legs easily negating any idea of that _Soulless One _had a high clearance. Crossing the hanger in his hunched poise and flowing black cloak, the general left his starfighter to the droid engineers and pit crews. Like much of the CIS Navy, Dooku's frigate was droid operated from the bridge to the count's personal chief. Grievous mused that he was probably one of the few beings on the vessel that came close to being designated as an "organic"...very loosely though. As soon as the cyborg reached a conjoining corridor, a hood figure met the mechanical commander.

"The good general, Grievous..." The figure greeted the cyborg, his golden brown eyes shining as he removed his cowl, "I'm surprised to see you come back after such a disastrous campaign. One who imagine that you run off to that castle of your's and sulk."

"Lord Sora Bulq. I had hoped that your pathetic defenses on Kothlis would had broke and let the Jedi come and behead you. One can only _dream_, it appears..." The two glared at each for a moment before they both started down the corridor, side by side, loathing each other's company. Grievous cut through the silence as they walked, "I had wonder if your Sanyassan allies could have lasted as long as they did. Couldn't they have at least had kept up the defense until I reorganized another fleet?!"

"My thoughts always lay on **your** inability to prevent our listening post on Ruusan's moon from being destroyed" The Weequay retorted in a subdued, yet still accusing tone, "I heard that a Knight and Padawan and a hand full of clones were the ones responsible. Couldn't the famed _General Grievous_ kept up the defense against such?"

"GRRAAH!!! You leather faced worm!! It was **you** who was responsible for losing the campaign!!! You let thousands of droid be destroyed for nothing!! The Both sector is LOST to us!!!"

"I lost droids. **You** lost fleet of capital ships..._and_ a communication station... ..."

"RAHH!! Be mindful of your tongue, Bulq! I am the **Supreme Commander** of the Droid Armies!!"

"I answer to Lord Dooku and our master, Master Sidious...**alone**." The Dark Acolyte glanced to his right to see the general's robotic fist curled up and shaking in front of the cyborg, totally frustrated, "Your rank is meaningless to me. I am Count Dooku's trusted disciple, second to no one in the Confederacy's forces."

"Feh..." Grievous really had a way with words, "...It is Ventress's spy network's fault, anyhow! It is **useless**!! It's clone infiltrators has proved to be a pointless endeavor, with no tactical gain to the Separatist Alliance."

"I found the clone operative on Kothlis to be most helpful... ..."

The reluctant pair reach a set of sliding doors, connecting the corridor to large room in the frigate. The cabin was nearly a black void, save for a single pool of light in the middle of the room. As the Bulq and the general entered, they became aware of the two long viewports that opened up the room to the starry vacuum outside the ship. The floating ice field next to the frigate were visible at the extreme ends of the viewports on either side, white-ish sky blue hunks. Grivevous sheepishly look of this shoulder as the doors suddenly shut tight, contemplating whether or not to face what was coming. The Weequay didn't seem the slightest bit anxious, however, and had trod to middle light pool to be full illuminated and visible to anyone hiding the shadows of the room. The cyborg groan as silently as his verbolizor allowed and entered into the column of light.

"It took you two long enough..." An ominous, feminine tone announced from the darkness, "I had wondered if you would show your faces after such a horrific failure." From the shadow's stepped a cloaked woman, her white chin and face peeking from under her cowl. Pulling her hood away, the woman revealed her bald and tattooed head.

"If it isn't the Sith witch, herself" The cyborg general proclaimed with a gesture of his arm, "Come to blame **her** failings on her comrades!"

"Come on, Grievous. I'm merely trying to beat you before make such a claim, **yourself**."

"It is too late, my dear. The good general has already taken the excuse up when defending himself to me." Bulq graced his fellow Acolyte with a hallow smile. Their relationship wasn't much better than it was with Grievous, though they were tactfully about it, "I came to advocate for your spies, in your place. Though I do have my frustrations as to the number of clone in your service."

"*Sigh*... only a few clone out of thousands have desires to leave their _Grand Army_. Of that, even fewer escape truly escape the Republic. I am working with a **handful** of operatives, all of such need to believe that we have the clones' best interests in mind. I must baby them at almost even turn-"

"You can not expect much from clone soldiers, Ventress..." A new voice cut the female Acolyte short as he made his presence known to the three, stepping into the pool of light. Ventress, Bulq, and the cyborg general all bowed out of respect to the stoic featured Sith Lord, Count Dooku, "The clones were raised to serve the Jedi Order and it's masters. We most be patient with those troopers that side with us...until, at least, they no longer hold a purpose... ..."

"Yes, my master..." Dooku turned to other two occupants of the cabin and scowled at them with a fiery glare, though his tone was seemed somber when he spoke.

"Despite your accusations, it is indeed you two's faults that Bothan was lost. After months of careful planning and the assembly of precious resources, you still **fail**!"

"It was Skywalker, my lord!" Grievous relied in a desperate stake to defend save face, "He was the one that defeated my fleet and then destroy our listening post!! Skywalker's powers overwhelmed my troops and his cunning skills evaded a confrontation with me, personally. There was nothing I could do but-"

"But ran away, with your tail between your legs." The Weequay interrupted, prompting a robotic sounding growl from the general. Bulq payed it no mind, "I met Skywalker on Kothlis not too long ago. I found that he has become powerful, but is reckless and easy to anger, he is of no great threat to the Confederation."

"Do not underestimate Anakin Skywalker, Lord Bulq..." The Sith Lord retorted, "The Master has much planned for him. He represents a turn in this 'Clone War' and the rise of the Sith. The Master has foreseen this... ..."

Bulq's brow wrinkled as he try to conceive as to how that little emotion boy general could have any place in their great overlord's plans. He remembered that Skywalker had been rumored to be the fabled **Chosen One**, a Jedi that would set the Force into balance. That wasn't much of boon for Dark Side users like themselves, balance didn't mean control but being controlled. Those who strive for equality could never achieve the order of law that Lord of the Sith would bring. The Jedi Order and the Republic were obstacles to order, as Skywalker appeared to be as the Chosen One. If their Master did have some scheme for the boy, the Weequay could not figure as to what.

"And what do you have to say for your failings, Bulq?" Dooku inquired to the Dark Acolyte, eyebrow cocked, "Your Sanyassan allies seemed to be easily defeated across the Bothan Sector. Couldn't you at least secure one extra planet??"

"There was Kothlis-"

"To which you ultimately **lost**." The Weequay caught a fragment of snickers coming from other side of him. He did his best to ignore them...for now.

"The Republic somehow received advance notice to our combined attack, to which General Rahm Kota took formulated a defense strategy to every specific planet and front. He was even able to send reinforcement to some worlds who we denied all communication transmissions. Kota made the difference, and the Sanyassan forces were pushed back to their base on Dressel."

"Ah, yes...General Kota..." The count stroke a finger over his shortly trimmed white beard, recalling the Jedi Master, "He was leading tactician even when was still at the Temple. Even before the war, they would call him 'The General'."

"He no doubts plan to finish off the Sanyassan on Dressel, Master." Bulq related to the Sith Lord, "Allow me take our forces their to **crash** the Jedi there. At very least, we can delay the Republic in the Bothan Sector for a little longer."

"Our troops are need elsewhere, Bulq!!" Grievous unnecessarily bellowed from beside the Weequay, "To waste them on those who have failed is poor decision!"

"You mean like you, _good general_... ..."

"I will consent to you, Lord Bulq." Dooku proclaimed after a second of deliberating, "If only to provide you with the revenge of destroying Kota. But I will only give you what droids you have now and whatever you can muster on your own."

The Dark Acolyte frowned, slightly. Bulq wasn't a commander or general, he had not the military influence to rally an army. If Count Dooku would not direct place them in a commanding role, then no Acolyte had the authority to take troops from randomly from garrisons or bases. The Weequay only had few liberties, such as access to an sercure intelligence the CIS had or the use of the numerous Separatist hefty bank accounts. Suddenly a thought cross Bulq's mind and his slight scowl changed into a slight grin. Perhaps the Acolyte had why of rousing warriors... ...

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"Troubling, it is, hearing the continued actives of Sora Bulq with the Separatist..."

Kota was standing in the middle of the High Council Chamber, high atop the central tower of the Jedi Temple. The general was in the hot point of the room, where every Council Member could see any flinch or slight move the he might make under the pressure. There was the chance that long brown cloak of traditional Jedi garb he wore hid some of his movements, how Kota missed his armor! Robes or not, though, the Council did not need their eyes to know Kota's feelings. Through the Force, all was revealed to them. Kota glanced about the chamber. Many of the Council Members were ghostly holo projections, seated in their regular roster about the room. The war prompted the Masters' physical presence to far off point in the galaxy, though that didn't limit the Councils ability to peer into the general's heart and mind. Of those who were present: Master Piell, Master Windu, Master Adi Gallia, and Master Kenobi sat quietly as Master Yoda continued... ...

"With the Sanyassans, his connections helped Dooku ally, there is little doubt." The small green sage tapped his wooden cane as he contemplated the matter, watching the Senior Jedi General with sagacious eyes. Eyes that spoke his eight hundreds of age and superiority, "The Bothan Spy Network, the Separatist desired greatly. To gain a _food-hold _in the sector, with the Sanyassans, they allied."

"All the Sanie privateers have falling back to their base on Dressel." Kota related, "They no longer have the strength to defend any other planet in Bothan Space."

"It is still a likely point for further invasions in the sector." Master Windu pointed out.

"Perhaps we should launch an preemptive strike on Dressel and destroy any ability to host an invasion fleet in the system." The ghostly holo of Master Fisto suggested to the group. Kota beamed inside himself, perhaps he would get what he aimed for.

"Isn't that going a little too far?" But then there was Kenobi, "Dressel was any agreed upon base for the Sanyassan Privateers by both the Judicial Forces and the Bothan government. But it **is** an totally inhabited homeplanet."

"Dressel was chosen to boost the Dressellians' economy" Adi Gallia jumped in, clarifying the situation, "The Bothans money would trickle down from the Sanyassan contractors to the people of Dressel. Bothawui and the Dressellian governments agreed to it, though they never could have know that the Sanyassan would side with the Separatists. An attack would harm more innocents than anything else."

"The planet has fortified by the enemy. And the Sanyassans are despite" Kenobi spoke up again, "To attack them would be like attacking any creature trying to stay alive. They'll use anything at their disposal to resist."

"If the Sanyassans have entrenched themselves, it my turn to what it is like on Mygeeto." Master Mundi's holograph booster Kenobi's position. Kota frowned, knowing sway the Cerean Jedi had on the Council, "I would hate to see another long campaign for the Republic. My Marines have been on Mygeeto since early of last year and still the planet's CIS forces hold out!"

"But must allow our hesitations of drawn-out battles dictate our decisions alone." Kota let out a silence sigh of relief as Master Even Piell, an equally influential Council Member, sided with his position, "The Separatist would never rest if they could directly invade Bothan again."

"We must forget way we are fight his war, way we oppose the Separatists." Master Rancisis coiled holographic body lay atop his seat, since it was hard to sit without legs. Oppo Rancisis was the second oldest Council Member and most conservative of Jedi traditions. The general didn't expect him to support him on an attack no matter what, "The Dressellains are young race, who have yet to master the finer points of technology. They haven't the ability to rebuild after an planetwide battle or treat the millions who would be injured. The Republic and the Order keep their needs in mind more so than anyone else's."

"The implications of either attacking or not are grim no matter what.. ..." Windu tilted his bald head down and clasped his fingers under his chin. After a few moments of thoughts, he turned to the small green sage, the Master of the Order, waiting for his fail say on the decision, "Master Yoda?"

"Hhmmm... To Master Kota, mass invasion, the only answer is. To Master Kenobi, negotiations..." Yoda shut his lids, blocking his site from the world and focusing on the Force communing with him. His eyes opened, "...With Dressel, too great the threat is. **Invasion**, unfortunately, our only solution."

The general openly beamed, the Council nodded in agreeance with a few acting more so reluctant with their nod. No one who disagreed was left unknown, the whole felt each other's sentiments on every matter. Even Kota knew each one's feelings on Dressel...he was a Jedi Master, after all. Kenobi's position to an attack still seem more sensible to some the Council. Yoda word was final, however, and continued discussion would prove fruitless. Master Windu stood and the Council Members followed suit... ...

"This council is in agreeance then." The dark skinned Jedi proclaimed, "Plans for the invasion and occupation of Dressel shall be put in place. Master Kota...since you continue to hold the command of Republic forces in the sector, you will be the one to lead the attack."

"Might I suggest that Jedi General Skywalker join with General Kota" The Senior Jedi almost flinched, luckily he had the strength to stop himself, "He, along with a contingent of the Five-Oh-First, would make quite the difference. We could end the fighting quicker."

"Accepted, Master Kenobi's request is. To Dressel, both of Heroes' of the Bothans will go."

Kota scowled, despite himself. The general knew that he would have to work with clones no matter what on this mission, and the 501st weren't a newly hatched unit either. What upset the general was Skywalker. He was Jedi Knight that still had his problems with keeping his emotions under key. Kota was not his old master, Yoda, though himself. He go...overly frustrated at others. Sometimes, insisted of taking a few hours of meditation calm his nerves, he went to the bar for a couple glasses of Corellian brandy. Kota knew he wasn't a saint, but he knew that Skywalker was worst...and it scared him that some many placed their lives in the Knight's hands. The whole room bowed to each other, holographics flickered off and the chamber doors opened as the present Council Members left. The general was one of last to make to leave out the door, however, someone touched his shoulder as a clear sign that they wanted to stay and talk to Kota.

"Rahm, I know you think Anakin isn't quite fit for Jedi Knighthood. But you must realize that he is one of the best commanders on the field we have, along with you."

"Master Kenobi...before you try selling me to your old Padawan, maybe you should realize that I've been in that boy's position before." Kota pulled pass the other Master back into the High Council Chamber, veering over to panoramic viewports around the room. From one viewport, he could see the Galactic City span out across Coruscant's horizon, never to end as it emcompressed the whole planet. Master Kenobi was visible in reflection of the glass as he stood behind the general, "When I was is age, I was still just a Padawan of Master Yoda. My path had seemed clouded and unpredictable, like drops of rain within a storm. I...kept a rage inside of me. A beast that I was afraid of letting lose. Only in a fight did I find some peace through it all. The boy is the same as I was then...but there's something else. Anakin and I both have our attachments."

"I do see the attachments he places on the troops under his command." Kenobi popped in, feeling he had grasp as to what the general was talking about, "Anakin must learn to let go. I do hope he learn this, but his mother's death may hamper such a lesson."

"It's...more than that, Kenobi..." The blondish Jedi blinked, Kota still did not turn towards him.

"Are you suggesting that an _relationship_ of some kind exist with Anakin? Something the Council wouldn't approve of??"

"You were his master...I thought you would understand!!" The Senior Jedi made himself calm, swallowing back his frustrations, "Anakin and I share a connection to our homeworld...or at least the planet we use to call home..."

"I can't see Anakin having any fond feelings for Tatooine..." Kenobi was actually beginning to see what his fellow Master was talking of, though he wanted Kota to reveal it on his own.

"We both hate our homeworld. We loath them! The ghosts of those who died...who we let die...haunt us. I can tell you that Anakin wakes up at night in a cold sweat. I can tell you that he is more fearful than he leads others to believe. At the time, I felt that I needed to protect everyone around me, to never let what happen at home happen again. And now, so does Anakin."

"Anakin has many demons. From this war and from before it. But, Kota...you must know that he will overcome them, right?"

"Why. Because is the Chosen One?" The general did have much for myth and legends, even of the Jedi.

"No, Kota. Because **you** over came your demons. If you are the end result to a life like Anakin's, then he has nothing to worry about."

"Then, you should also know that his life could end up as Dooku's as well." The retort caught Kenobi for a second, but Kota could see from the reflection that he did not blink. The general turned to face the Jedi, "Are you ready to recognize **that** as possible result."

"No... ... I don't believe I could ever..." Down trot, the Jedi looked hopefully up Kota, "I ask you, then, to lend your wisdom to my former apprentice. Do not let this happen to Anakin, my friend. Please."

"I intent to, Kenobi..."

The general walked past his suppose higher officer and through the doors. How Kenobi was accepted into High Council, the Senior Jedi hadn't know but it didn't matter. None the Jedi Councils were appealing to Kota, they all seemed meant for those Jedi that found administrating oh-so-fun. He needed action, not words, and the feeling that what he did had an effect on the universe. Kenobi could keep the High Council seat and rank over him, Kota had his militiamen and a galaxy of evil to fight. Before the general could make it down the hall, he felt a familiar sensation. As Kota turned the corner, the feeling took form as an mid-30's human male, dressed in the fine garb of Dantooine noblity. The Jedi Master almost laughed as he noticed that he still hadn't cut his hair shorter or put it up in a bun... ...

"Falon Grey! By the Force itself!!" Kota rushed up and gave the smiling man a large bear huge. He felt Falon struggle a bit, but eventually gave up and pat his old master on the back.

"Master...You've changed little..." The general released the Jedi Knight and took a firm grip onto his shoulder.

"So what brings you back to from the Corellian sector, my old Padawan."

"It's a **long** story, Master. Lets catch up along the way."

The two, former master and apprentice, walked down the halls of the Temple, catching up on old times. For long time, Kota forgot his troubles with Skywalker and the Council. It was just Falon and him, recalling past missions of their time together and apart. Kota could not wait until Aasia met him... ...

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Aasia closed her eyes and let the cascade of warm water slid over her face. Pushing her hands across her forehead, wetting back shoulder length black hair to the back of her head and sighed. A shower after a long mission was Force blessing, especial this mission. Ram just suddenly appeared, after being dead for almost a month, he appears... ...kriffing bastard. The girl smiled as she thought about the kriffing bastard, though. It wasn't as like it was bad news. Totally shocking, totally infuriating, but not bad. The reason for not telling Aasia was apparent after her clone ex told her who he was hunting for the Republic. Only covert ops went after clone deserters and spies, or so the rumors in the ranks said. Well, they weren't rumors anymore... ...

The raining shower shut off as Aasia step out into the main part of the refresher, taking a close by towel and started drying her body. The steam fogged up a nearby mirror until a peach-colored blob was reflected and the major whipped the glass clear with her towel before moving to her hair. A thought suddenly crossed the girl's mind as she stared into the green eyes of her reflection and she frowned. Was there more? Had Ram told her everything there was to tell, and if not, why not tell her now? With that, Aasia had decided. Wrapping a long towel around her torso, she moved to the refresher's door and tapped the controls, stepping through before the door fully opened. Unsurprisingly, Ram was in the conjoining room, sitting down on the bed the other side as the clone adjusted his leg plates on his ARC armor.

"Your pretty fast with that kit" Aasia smirked out, gripping her towel with one hand as she felt it slipping, "...despite it's not your custom Mandalorian stuff."

"Mandos are raised to suit up fast. And do you know I didn't put all the bells and whistles on this rig." Ram looked at her, classic grin, as he finished rearranging the armor. The clone stood and start to move across the room to the woman, but Aasia veered off to a clear glass table at the side of the room. The female officer looked out towards the oval window, away from Ram, picturing the eternal city planet of Coruscant just behind the blinds that covered the glass. The towering buildings were there, with thousands of airspeeders zooming around them. By that time at night, the metropolis' lights were beaming in rivalry to the stars above. Aasia hate herself for wanting to pry deeper into the clone's affairs after just coming back into her life. To drive him away, now... ... The girl's thoughts were interrupted as Ram's arms wrapped around Aasia's shoulders from behind, his cool plastoid plates pressed onto her bare skin. Clone's nosed dug around, through the major's wet hair, to her scalp as his warm breath washed over her neck, "Your tense...your upset." As Ram spoke, each word tickled across her flesh, "I wanted to tell you, I should have told you. But I couldn't."

"Why?" It seem ridiculous to Aasia, a sick joke that her clone ex was playing. She snickered, but the major quickly reverted to scowl, "I'm the senior officer of a Senior Jedi General. Does Special Operations think I'm a **security risk**, or something...despite have clearance to find out how many toilet-trips the Chancellor takes."

"How many does he take, anyway? I suspect alot, since he is getting on in years." The girl tried not to laugh, pushing giggle in throat down with all her might. Ram twist Aasia about and positioned her to face him. His supposed superior looked up the clone, the elite warrior nearly melted at the happy smile across the woman's face, "This was want I decided...to protect you from harm."

"I'm an militia officer on the front lines of a **war**, Ram!"

"_Aas'la_, give me this. Mandalorians protect their own, your my wife."

"Your the one who divorced me." Aasia related with a sly look about her. The girl's fingers ran up to Ram's ear and flicked his lobe, "You said that you needed to do that to protect me too."

"That was different." The elite clone swished Aasia's hand away as he retorted to her, "I did it so that you could easily move on after my _inevitable_ death. No one should have Mando pushed on them because of dead man."

"Ha...really, I think you just love living in sin." The girl inched a little closer to Ram, pulling his head down a little nearer.

"Hmm, maybe I'm just setting up to when you old and saggy. Get me a Twi'lek girl..." He willingly let himself be subdued and moved a little tighter against Aasia.

"You wish!"

The two meet at the lips, Ram slight turning his head to side to fully immerse himself into the kiss. The folds of their mouths puckered, nearly simultaneously, and they captured each other's lip warmly between their own for a moment. The clone perceive Aasia smile against him, must probably because she could feel his grinning expression. It had been a **long** time spent in month of disappearance. Ram and his ex had spent longer periods apart, as it was the necessity of the war, but in that month the clone felt that he lived a hundred years away from her. He wanted to savor every minute of reunion, every second of it. The elite couldn't though... ...

"I've got to get back to my men..." Ram broke away and turned to the door that exited the room, grabbing his HALO helmet off the bed along the way. Aasia was thrown by the sudden 180 of the elite clone's attentions, but quickly recollected herself. She shouldn't be surprised, the elite's bipolar mindset would normally had Ram making decisions on the fly. The clone stopped at the door and glanced back at the major in shame, with a tiny bit of embarrassment. He apologized for 'staying the night' and then just leaving, promising a return, "Tonight maybe...or tomorrow night. I can't say."

"I know."

"I can't prize you dance, either. It takes me an hour to get here from Ion Barracks and then back. It's a **big** city-planet."

"Ram, I understand." Aasia could not help but laugh at the clone's hopelessness, "Go! Reveille's in an hour! By the Force...your lucky that I love you."

"I know."

Ram placed his helmet and stepped out the door, looking either way before dashing off to the side and of the girl's site as the door closed. Her clone ex gone, Aasia wondered over to her bed and plopped full body down on the mattress. The girl groan, wishing to just fall asleep, but the female officer said it herself: "Reveille's in an hour..." Sigh. With as much energy as a Dagobah swamp sloth, the major pulled herself up and got dressed into her blue fatigues. As tried as she was, though, see hummed a happy tone for the rest of the morning.

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_Etain Tur-Mukan? Of course I've heard of her. Force...she was nothing like General Kota... ..._

_Tur-Mukan's relationship with with the clone commando, RC-1136? Now that bit only came out after the Empire fell at Endor, and I'm not sure about other clones, but I was floored! People these days don't know what it was like for the Jedi back then. Taken from their families, barred from attachments...well, attachments for Jedi is your family and the people you are in love with. Even clones had brothers and there were those others who we loved like the stars._

_But the Jedi...they could never fall in love... ..._

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"Stars...Sarge, you look terrible!"

Carthar twisted his head back saw the clone medic, Uncle, walk up to the table where Sage, Chappie, the ARC, and he were eating breakfast. They sat in giant mess hall of Ion Barracks, one massive room that could fit a eighty Nu-class transports into it with space to spar. Thousands of paratroopers from the 28th Parachute Infantry Regiment packed the hall, including the survivors of Kothlis like the Grunts in Raider Company. Near endless rows of tables filled with dinning clone's of the whole two thousand and more troopers from just that barracks alone. Ion Barracks were the official base of the 28th on Coruscant, where major regrouping and deployments were orchestrated, from resupply paratrooper operations to jump planning for battles. Carthar arrived there on the _Resolute_ with the 8th and rest of the paratroopers less than a day ago, the _Dauntless_ limping back with them for major repair at dry-dock. A few elements of the 501st and Kota's militia traveled with them with remainder returning each respective forces returning after 85th Infantry took charge of the planet. Right now, the young trooper did want to think about Kothlis. As Uncle sat down beside the younger clone with his tray of green eggs and nerf, the paratrooper medic studied Ram with critical eye and a frown... ...

"Sarge, are you eating those eggs or sleeping in them?" The gray haired clone's prompts weren't to off. The ARC sergeant sitting hunched over his meal tray, struggle to pull a forge from the food to his mouth. Uncle persisted, "Sir, you should go to the infirmary. Your going to passout!"

"No...No, I'm fine." The elite clone managed a weak smile toward the medic, "I just don't have any energy today. I...umm...didn't get any sleep last night. I couldn't relax, had to...move about and walk around the base."

"Sir, you should go to the infirmary if you have insomnia." Carthar said with evident concern for his cherished sergeant.

"I'm alright, _Ka'rta_." Ram related with a little more energy, the young trooper didn't feel much better about the subject. He also didn't want upset the man, so the clone dropped it.

"So here's something interesting on the Holonet today..." Chappie jumped in, veer the topic off into current events. He pulled up a small datapad from his lap and started scrolling through news articles, "After Falleen fell to Grievous' forces, the planet's government officially seceded from the Republic and joined the Confederate of Independant Systems."

"How terrible!" A clone paratrooper sitting close by proclaimed with large grin, "That just fills me with Republic fervor. We patriotize the place and have all those grateful Falleen girls...ha ha..._thank_ us!"

"You wouldn't know what to do with them if we did, trooper!" Carthar retorted to the clone.

"I bet you he try something with one of their armpits, scary the poor girls away! Ha ha!!!" Chappie called over and the whole table started cackling in laughter, even the few started howling. The clone paratrooper joined in, too, taking the joke in strides as he added a good humor counter... ...

"How do you know that Falleen women don't like stuff like that!" That comment started a few more rounds of mirth cries, "Anyway, it isn't like either of you two know any girls to know what your talking about."

As the laughter died down and troopers went back to their meals, Carthar pondered on the theme of their merriment. Intercourse, mating, sex, they were all just words to single clones. The definitions were thoroughly known, like ever subject flash trained or taught to them, but there was no aspirations or goals set for them. There wasn't many chances to explore field, that is, the entire GAR was on call to go anywhere and everywhere that war need. The young trooper was sure that if he had time to investigate the matter he would take it, if just to understand way civilians were so caught up in it. Carthar suspected that whole _coupling_ idea (as his manual identified the relationship arrangements) was something a bit more than mating and pleasure. Families were based around two individuals who lived together, be it their own children or adopted by parents.

Sarge Ram said that Mandalorians normally adopted, even marriages were saw as a special type of adoption where sex wasn't considered a limitation. Perhaps, the young trooper surmised, two people got together because they always enjoyed be around each other. Concept of love popped into his mind, which lined up with this thinking pretty easily. Carthar remembered his drill sergeant saying that they need to love his squadmates like the brothers that they were, and by the Force they all did feel the connection that transcended assignment and mission. It was formed from battle, watching each _vode_ back and pulling them out of the hell breach. However... civvies almost were never in a battle, and they normally in some relationship with somebody. They never had someone like Pro taking a grenade blaster for them. Pro was Carthar's _vod_ mate with out a doubt. Maybe civilians formed something like the relationship between Billie and the young trooper. She had said that they were friends, which many Jedi and civilians tried to have tons of, according to the blue girl.

The edges of Carthar's mouth popped up as he thought of the times spent with Billie. They had a dinner together in the _Resolute's _mess, talking for hours about growing up as a Jedi and a clone in their respective positions. Billie seemed fascinated with the young trooper's experiences of daily training and rapid aging, Carthar couldn't believe the female healer's stories of the dozen of planets she visited to treat injured and sick Jedi, as well as the idea of not having a purpose in life. He told the girl that every clone was bred for some specific purpose, at very least to serve the Republic and the Jedi to their best. Billie described following as something close to such a concept, but much more clouded, even for the Jedi Council. The future is always flowing in different directions, she had said, and no one was truly sure what in store for them. The blue Jedi girl held a down trot face as she described her hopes of becoming a Knight in the Order, however she was born too weak and it was decided that it was best to put her on the Medical Corp. The young trooper though that her abilities were up to par with the Jedi, saying how wonderful his leg felt after she healed it. Billie smiled at him, and Carthar felt his inside twist...in a good way. She promised to try and get the trooper some leave so that she could show around Corsucant. The clone was overjoyed to hear that, but he had his suspicion that a first lieutenant wasn't able to do such a thing.

"Hey...umm...Does anyone understand what powers first lieutenant has in GAR?" Carthar as his squad around at the table, "Can she grant a paratrooper leave for a few hours or something like that?"

"Leave? Well, I guess if they send a request to a General-"

"Wait wait wait wait wait...**she**?!" Uncle cut in, quickly jumping on the young trooper's slip.

"Or him...them...whatever gender!" It was to late and Carthar was in the thick of it as the medic pulled younger clone into a headlock.

"So little Cherrie here as lady officer his wooing! HA!!" The gray haired clone rubbed his knuckles across across the young trooper's scalp and barked a laugh as he released Carthar.

"She's getting **leave** for you, Cherrie?" Saga inquired with cocked eyebrow. It was the first thing the trooper had said since he came to the table. He seemed skeptical about the whole thing, "Cherrie...has a **date**..."

"Can't the man have a date?" Chappie was quick to Carthar's defense, which was good since the young trooper had faintest as what Saga had ment. A date was something on a calender.

"_Ka'rta_, who is this girl?" The sarge posed, taking greater interest in the matter and so called 'date'.

"Well, umm..." Thought of describing put the younger clone into embarrassed and yet chirpily tone, "She's from the _Resolute_. She assigned to the ship's medical crew and was helping out with wounded from Kothlis. I met her and she fixed my leg." Carthar absentmindedly stared down into his sickly green eggs and stirred his fork through them as he beamed at Billie and his first meeting, "Later we got something to eat together and talked for a while..."

"That isn't what I met. **Who** is she, trooper." Ram was looking straight at the clone, frustrated that he did get a useful answer.

"She's, well, you know. A Jedi healer with the Medical Corps. Her name is Bih-Li, but her she likes her friends to call her Billie."

"... ..." The ARC leaned back his chair, stroking his stubble covered chin. He had forgotten to shave that morning, probably because he hadn't the energy to remember. He hadn't the energy for this young clone either, "_Ka'rta_...you do know, right? About Jedi... ..." Carthar looked Chappie and Uncle, even Saga, but none of them said a word. Sarge Ram was sighed and went on, "The Jedi are forbidden from the attachment of love. They can't return the feelings that other beings might have for them. The can never marry or anything equal to it."

"It-It's nothing like that!" The young trooper related, shaking his head, "We're just friends. I'm not in love with Billie. Not at all!"

"Are you sure, _Ka'rta_?"

"I knew a few clones who got a crush on a Jedi girl..." Uncle said, arms folded and head tiled as he recalled whoever his talking of, "They were pretty broken up after the Jedi miss rejected them for 'purity in the Force'."

"It's nothing like that, Sarge. Billie and I are friends. None else... ..." A lump formed in Carthar's throat as he said the words. Gazing down at his meal tray, the clone surmised that was fine arrangement of things. Friends, Billie and him. He hadn't any other objective and the young trooper decided that it was more than enough. So he should stop feeling so bad about it all.

_I should stop feeling sad_, He kept saying to himself, _...I still sad though... ..._

"You ok, kid?" The gray haired clone asked as he scratched the back of Carthar's head. The young trooper felt nudge to his side and look to see Chappie smirking and hopping that the clone brighten his features. The clone smiled, feeling better.

"I'm ok." Carthar glance up to the ARC and received a nodded and a reassuring smile. He would be ok no matter what, with _vod_ mates like these.

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Transverse the phantasm of hyperspace, third brightly painted crimson starships knifed along to unknown location. Just inside the lead vessel, the screeching cries of agony filled the corridors. It pured from a single chamber, from a single being. The Rodian haulsman from the raided transport was bound to the ceiling of the room be metal chains. The cuffs sliced into his skin, letting dark blood run down his arms and across his bare chest. This tormentor, the lead Mandalorian named Montross, gleamed at his pain. Rolling the stun baton between his hands, Montross tickled with exhilaration. He rammed the baton into the Rodian's armpit, prompting another ragged scream from the alien prisoner as electricity sizzled against flesh. It was a magnificent chorus to the Mandalorian.

"Do you hear, Rodian." Montrossed asked, "How your shrieks are accentuated by the subtle sound of you skin burning. People would agree that it's music fit for the ages..." The stun baton was kept in, running fire down the haulsman's body. He could not scream anymore, but the Mando pressed on and on, receive breathless whimpers from the being. The sudden doors to the slid open and Montross removed the baton and turned to meet his lieutenant, Chop'aa.

"Hail, Mandolare!" The other warrior bellowed, his electrostaff missing and crimson helmet in hand. For the first time, the haulsman looked up to see Chop'aa's true face. A bald human head with a beard trimmed in a odd fashion, three braids hanging off his chin. Though had he looked like a Rodian beauty queen, the haulsman would have cared. He hated Chop'aa, he hated all the Mandolarians except for Montross. He was just plain afraid of him.

"Can't you see I'm busy." The robed Mando retorted with disdain.

"My lord, a transmission from someone who specifically wishes to speak you..." Chop'aa revealed a handheld holoprojector and the translucent blue form of a cloaked figure appeared.

"Greetings, Montross" The figure spoke, "I have a proposition for you."

"A Sith right...gggrrhh..." Montross folded his arms in front of him and glared the holograph, "The last time I accepted a _proposition_ from on of your kind, I nearly mauled to death on some burial moon."

"Yes...I familiar with your past transactions. Your latest dealing with our Trade Federation allies has proved quite helpful. They did, however, express some grievances with working with organization."

"I hate Neimoidians. But I work for money, I always say."

"Then...You work for me. I will pay you one hundred thousand credits for join my endeavor and another hundred thousand credits after it is completed."

"If we can agree on a payment, why, you'll have yourself the **Blood Reivers** under your employment." The robed Mando grinned a yellow smile and noticed the cloak figure smirking slight himself, "So, which shall it be...assassination? Terrorism? Or just the simple everyday practices of a pirate."

"We'll discuss the task along with your payment, in person... "

"Your the boss. HA!" The holo faded away and Montross turned back to the Rodian prisoner. Chop'aa left promptly, to attend to whatever he attended to. The sadistic Mando leader gripped the haulsman's neck and pulled him up to eye level, let the stun baton spark next to the alien's head, "Looks like fun-time has to cut short... You know, you have nice eyes. Even for a Rodian, I have to admit, I'm smitten. I'll keep them to remember these little moments of ours... ..."

* * *

Author's Note: Do you like green eggs and ham? The book. It's probably a cultural reference that only Americans understand. Anyway...

Review!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Nearly a thousand years ago, Lord Hoth and his Army of Light were faced continually with formidable odds and recurring defeats. Supplies and equipment were lacking. Many said that the Republic's cause was hopeless, and that enemy would overcome. At the Ruusan campaign, every battle was crucial, ever last victory and last battleground a turning point in the war.**

**Hoth's conduct in those hard times has provided the model for all the Republic's citizens ever since – a model of moral stamina. He held to his course, as it had been charted in the Galactic Constitution. He and the brave men who served with him knew that no man's life or fortune was secure without peace and orderly institutions.**

**The present great struggle has taught us increasingly that safety of person and security of property anywhere in the galaxy depend upon the security of the rights and obligations of liberty and justice everywhere in the galaxy.**

**And I can say, after two years of war, that the Republic has preformed a miracle.**

**Our war machine has quadrupled our navy to succeeded any in the past. Our clone army fights with tenacity of blazing nova. And citizens toiled away on thousands of loyalist planets to produce millions upon millions of tanks, weapons, and munitions. A few of us are decorated with medals for heroic achievement, but all of us can have that deep and permanent inner satisfaction that comes from doing the best we know how - each of us playing an honorable part in the great struggle to save our democratic civilization. All three fighting as one Galactic Republic.**

**The strength of the Grand Army of the Republic is on the upgrade in this war. The Separatist leaders, on the other hand, know by now that they have already reached their full strength, and that their steadily mounting losses in fighting droids and material cannot be fully replaced. One of the principal weapons of our enemies in the past has been their use of what is called "The War of Nerves." They have spread falsehood and terror; they have started Clone Fifth Columns in our loyal army; they have duped the innocent; they have fomented suspicion and hate between neighbors; they have aided and abetted those people in criminal organizations whose words and deeds are advertised by Count Dooku as proof of our disunity.**

**The greatest defense against all such propaganda, of course, is the common sense of the common people - that the defense is prevailing.**

**And now we stand today, our enemies' back to the cliff. The objective of today is clear and realistic. It is to destroy completely the military power of the Confederation of Independant Systems and like minded government to such good purpose that their threat against us and all the Republic cannot be revived a generation hence.**

**We are united in seeking the kind of victory that will guarantee that our grandchildren can grow and, free from the constant threat of invasion, destruction, slavery and violent death.**

_At the end of Supreme Chancellor's speech, there was great uproar of cheers and applause that seemed to continue on and on for an hour. The entire Senate, Loyalists and Separatist sympathizers alike, all clapping in approval for one reason or another. The Republic was united in a war that was thought to be inevitable won by the Republic forces._

_What a lot of people didn't know...we were __**losing**__ the war._

_We had the equipment, the ships, and the best warriors in universe fighting the Republic's cause, we could have been winning. But the question was, did the Senate have the guts. Every military strategist screamed to consolidate our forces, stop spreading the navy and army across the galaxy in a thin line in the sand against the Seps. Palpatine was afraid of alienating planets, though, and creating new allies for the tinnies. The Chancellor had the Senate united, but he was constantly walking the tight-rope between politics and war._

_However, if the Republic was to survive it would have to decide whether they had the gall to play hard ball or not... ..._

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"Absolutely **not**!" In the high reaches of the domed Republic Executive Building, Jedi Master Kota and Jedi Knight Skywalker sat before the Palptine's desk as the Chancellor voiced his disagreeances with the generals' plan, "I will not let the fate of an entire system hang in the balance of the trust of a fraction planet's people. A civil war might rang out between Dressel's nation-states that would only upset the Bothans even further than they alright are."

"Chancellor, please understand." Anakin desperately trying to make the Head of State see where whole scope of their proposal, "Our entire plan rests on have the Aegle Union help secure the Sanie command base."

"The Union's leaders have being sending low-band communication signals into space now for a year." The Senior Jedi joined in, "Ever since the Sanyassan Privateers launched their first raids into Bothan territory, the Aeglians have being begging for aid against the Sanyassans."

"Before, I was told that the Dressellian peoples welcomed the Sanyassans with open arms." Palptine looked to each of the Force-users in front of him, stoic in his features, "Now they see them as usurpers who are ruling over them with an iron fist. Gentlemen, I must take a skeptical stance point on this matter consider the lack of resources you wish to use..."

"Anything more and it would take up too much time."

"The Separatist are no doubt going to send supplies to Dressel" The young Knight related, "and reinforce the planet against an invasion. Their expecting an army, which takes a while to assemble, so they would also want to take some time to organize enough supplies."

"But if we send a few battalions and strike at the Sanies' head... ..." Kota let his words hang to full set in before continuing, "Their defenses will have no way to repeal us and with the Union's help, a major part of the battle will be won."

"Well, if it was only the Dressellians concerning me, I would concede" The Chancellor replied, "but the matter of use of the Protype... This is most displeasing... ..."

"I was equally against at first, too, Chancellor..." The Jedi Master glanced at Anakin with corner of his eye for moment, "After some time...discussing it, I came to an agreeance with my counterpart."

"The Protype was designed for maximum fire power in limited numbers." The Knight said, still as confident since he explained it first to Kota, "The cruiser only could give us the edge in the preemptive attack in space. With the Protype would increase our tactical abilities to over fifty precent than with conventional cruiser in it's place."

"Well, I see now why you needed to meet with me, personally, to approval such a operation. I would have denied it outright without a second look!" The two Jedi despaired. Anakin bowed his head, the grimace on his face plain to see. The Senior Jedi merely closed his eyes. The frustration of having to go back to the drawing board and probably miss **any** advantage of quick and low casualty battle... Kota took a deep breath and realized his emotions in an exhale. Palptine laced his fingers and went on, "I am not happy about this, but you did the right thing come directly to me. I am convinced."

"Chancellor, thank you." The young Knight related with a grin, standing up along with Kota. Palptine beamed up at both of them, neither Jedi sense more the cool look on his face, "I can assure you that shortly Dressel will be under our command and the Bothan Sector will be once again free of Separatist influences."

"Yes...and they will once again join the Council of Neutral Systems... ..."

"You are probably right, Chancellor" The Senior Jedi admitted, "but it is simply the Bothans way. They don't feel their apart of the greater fight."

"That appears to be so..." Palptine glanced over to the younger Jedi as he scowled in silence. Smile once again, he stood from his chair, "Gentlemen, I believe you have a battle to prepare for. I wish you the best of luck."

The Chancellor bowed to Anakin and Kota and the two quickly reciprocated the respective gestured. As the Senate's leader sank back down behind his desk, the Jedi left Palptine's office suite and hurried Republic government building halls. Quietly walking through the corridor, the two general did not speak a word to each other. They dare not glance over to one another as the passed office after office of senators and public servants. Soon, the pair reached the turolift...and as the doors closed, the they let the fur fly... ...

"Are you actually not worried about Bothan's continued neutrality, Master Kota?"

"It is not our place to question, boy." The Senior Jedi placed a bit more volume in his voice that he wanted, "Calm yourself. It could be worst."

"'It could be worst? That's your answer!" Anakin finally turned to his follow general, perturb and clearing frustrated at Koat's simple acceptance, "Aren't you concern that the Separatist would simply attack Bothawuri again if they don't join the war effert."

"*Sigh*...You don't understand, Skywalker. It's apart of there culture to watch out for their own. We should be glad at least that the Confederation doesn't have the Bothan Spynet. Then this war would turn into a **massacre** for the Republic."

With a anguish exhale of breath, the young Knight remain silent and glared at the Jedi Master as though it made up for a rebuttal. Kota ignored the sharp stare and try to waited for the turolift to finish moving without saying anything. They were five hundred meters above ground floor, he was in for a long wait. The Boy General kept shooting the Jedi with glares. Anakin knew his place in the Order's hierarchy, as well as GAR's, and both placed him lower then the Jedi Master. Lower, but not too low to object and speak to Kota with a little less... reverence. It was a **long** wait.

"Master Kota, do you view our roles as the Jedi as warriors for the Republic...?" The Senior Jedi turned a cocked an eyebrow to Skywalker, bemused and confused... ...

"I would say that we're defenders of democracy, of the rights of the people."

"But what if the people...didn't want democracy. What if they did want the Republic to exist at all?"

"Right, I understand. You see the neutral planets as unknown factors, potential allies and enemies."

"No, it's not that." Anakin replied, taking a moment to find the proper words, "We know that the Republic is the base for a peaceful and successful galaxy. The problems it has will be paved smooth down after time, but only if we **all** stand and protect it."

"Boy..." Kota twisted to face the young Knight with height tone, however a calming breath flowed through the general and he composed himself with serenity and folded hands, "Anakin...the Jedi do not fight for the Republic, but what it stands for. We fight for the people, to end there suffering with passionless judgment. Many times have I gone to enslaved worlds and wished to free them from bondage. I couldn't not, though...not without consequences. The same is true with forcing our neutral friends to fight."

"I don't want to force them to fight..." The Knight said with light amount shame, "I want to know that their loyal and still want peace for everyone. That's all."

"Be patient, boy." The general offered to his younger counterpart, "This war is trying. Put your trust in your men and the Force, you won't need worry about the politics." The turolift doors finally opened and two stepped out, "Come on. Lets hammer out the finer points of your idiotic and genius plan. I'd hate to get to the battlefield and found out that you wanted to wing the rest."

Anakin actually smiled and thought that perhaps working with Kota wouldn't be as hellish as he first reckoned when his old master made him aware of thus. The Senior Jedi sighed, though, as silently as he could. The young Knight valued his trust very highly, not a bad trait, but costly in the life of Jedi. A level of trust should be automatic, however Anakin was very black and white about everything. The boy either distrusted someone plain out or held the up most trust within them. Absolutes like those led to the Dark Side...Kota knew this all too well.

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"Maybe she's still at the Temple, washing her hair." The white job trooper on watch said with a grin his voice.

Carthar took another long drag from his cigarra and took a few steps to the right, then turned walked back to his original position. The young trooper was pacing on the south landing platform of Ion Barracks, one open to the public if that public was allowed entry to the base's airspace. The clone was on his fourth cigarra, it's tabac brothers spent and stomped flat on the ground along his pacing path. Billie was late for their agreed upon RV and the young trooper hoped that they didn't need to scrub the planned excursion through Corusant's "hotspots". That's how the blue girl described the places the two planned to visit. Carthar thought it was an odd way of talking, the female Jedi countered that using terms like _rendezvous_ and _sitrep_ were equally as uncharacteristic terms for most. Whatever the case, it seemed that Billie was coming...and after all the trouble of getting some leave for the clone. Carthar assumed that it caused some trouble, at least. The Jedi girl was so confused about command structure that Carthar was little puzzled as to her place in the army. A slight warmth touched the clone's finger, the smoldering ended of the tabac roll burned down to the flesh and Carthar moved the cigarra to his other before taking another puff.

"_Ner vod_, you should look at the bright side of this..." The sentry trooper spoke up again as Carthar fidget from foot to foot, "You won't have to pay for her dinner!"

"Could you do me a favor, Brother, and jump off the edge of the platform..."

The clone on watch braked a laugh through his helmet's speaker as the young trooper drop his cigarra to ground, grinding his black shined boot across the roll. Carthar was in the same red fatigues that Billie had met him in and that somehow didn't seem fitting. But what choose did the clone have? His armor? White plastroid plates did not seem to friendly of an impression. Reaching a hand into his pocket, Carthar started toying around with his lighter, knocking it against the row of credit chips also in the pocket. Sergeant Ram had actually gave the clone some credits and told younger clone to "live it up". The young trooper didn't ask where the ARC got them, surmising that they were apart of some private stash he assembled.

Suddenly the sound of repulsorcraft engine rang in the distance and Carthar looked up to see a speeder zooming closer in the day's fading light. The young trooper glance back to the sentry clone who remained relaxed, his head bobbing as he confirmed with the barracks' air-control. It appear that was no trouble as the airspeeder moved gentle, but swiftly nearer to the platform pad. Carthar could see the craft more clearly now as the setting sun limited rays shone against the speeder in a orange hue. Round and with large fin on the bottom, the airspeeder hadn't a closed cabin and was open to the wind. The young trooper made out two faces, a beige and a blue one.

"Spoke too soon, huh, Jump Boy?" The sentry related with a smile. The airspeeder made a quick arch and pull up next to the platform, letting Billie dash onto the pad and over to the young trooper.

"Carthar!" The blue girl exclaimed, stopping in front of the young trooper out as she panted. The clone blinked as he looked Billie up down, feeling a little overwhelmed. The Jedi was dressed in stiletto heeled boots, form-fitting black pants, and stylish looking short sleeved silver tunic. Billie smiled, "I'm so sorry. I had a ton more paperwork at the Temple's Infirmary then I expected and I had to run back to my quarters to get ready...*sigh*"

"Um, it's...It's fine, really." Carthar was grinning like idiot, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. The girl could have smacked him in the face and the clone wouldn't have mind at that moment.

"It does matter!" The cyan-skin girl looked to a crono strapped to her wrist, "We should have plently time to go to everything, but only if we go **now**! Come on!"

"Have fun, Jump Boy..." The young trooper looked over his shoulder to the sentry clone as Billie dragged him to the waiting airspeeder.

The Zabrak driver at the helm of craft waited, anxious to get going as a cigarra smoldered in his lips. Carthar gave the driver a once over as the Jedi girl pulled him into the speeder. The horned man was in his mid-40's, wearing a blue fatigue jacket and his face was covered in the traditional Zabrak tattoos of thin intersecting lines. Billie and the young trooper took a sit behind the driver, the blue female pulling up near the Zabrak pilot and telling him wear to go. The horned man took a drag from his cigarra and pulled it from his mouth as small columns of smoke poured from his nostrils. He gazed at the two, a scrutinizing eye on Carthar specifically. The Zabrak driver didn't say a word and turned back to helm, but the clone was unease by his short stare.

"Don't mind him, Carthar" Billie related in concern for the trooper, rubbing his arm gently, "People are just on use to clones. Their still surprised seeing face behind those helmets."

"Yeah..." The Jedi girl's touch sent warm chills -honest truth- up and down Carthar's arm.

_Let the _chakaar _look and get an eye full_, The young trooper thought with a slight smug, _This girl is with me and we're going out. And we're... friends... ..._

The clone could at least pretend to Billie was something a little more, and nobody really had to know the whole truth. As the airspeeder lifted away from the platform and into the darken skies, Carthar watch the girl at side from the corner of his eye. The wind blow her short green hair around her head as a smile crept up her face. A shiver ran down Billie's limbs and she pulled up close to the young trooper. Being near to the female Jedi was just enough for Carthar, the clone would think as he wrapped an arm around the blue girl, protecting her from the cold. Being friends was just enough... ...

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Staring to his foggy reflection, Ram whipped the mirror clear with his hand to find the image of his face with jaw drapped in foamy white. His tool in grasped, the ARC slid the razor attached end across his foam covered skin in quick succession, again and again, until half of his face was cleared of white. Retracting the razor and placing it into the water filled sink in front of him, Ram check his reflection of any stray stubble before attacking the other side of his face. Aasia suddenly strolled into the refresher as though she owned the place. In actuality, it was just her quarters in Kota's militia headquarters. The clone knew she had some place to call home on Kuat, the woman's homeworld, still living with her parents. Though that was almost three years ago, before the war and before their impromptu marriage. Impromptu divorce, as well. The ARC stopped his shaving and watched Aasia bent over in her underwear as she scoop up her scattered clothes across the refresher's floor. She wasn't in anything too exciting, boxer briefs and a sports bra, but it was worth the look as far as Ram was concerned.

"Are you **just** getting that gathered up?" The clone posed with amused, bemused smirk, "The laundry droid's being in the hall for near an hour now!"

"I've got it under control..." Aasia huffed her answer, pulling out damp towels from a hamper near the shower.

"How are you going to lead men into battle if you can't organize your refresher, huh?" The major rolled her eyes made for her main living area, but halted by sink something catch her eye.

"That's my shaving cream!" She cried, dropping the clothes and grasping a cylinder canister from atop the sink, "That better not be me razor, too!"

"Force, no. You never clean the damn thing." Ram swished his metallic tool into the pool of water before him and then reach up to scrap the remaining foam from his face, "Out in the field, your lucky to get hot water. I don't much care if the stuff meant for ladies' legs or chaps' chins, better then nothing."

"Missed a spot... ..."

The clone squinted at his reflection, turn his face about to scan for what the girl was talking about. Suddenly, Aasia pulled the canister up to the ARC's ear and let loose a torrent of foam. Ram yelped -in a soldierly way- knocked the major's weapon from her hand as she laugh, giggled, and nearly wept at the foam covered clone. Aasia beat over cackling, leaning her back against the wall in fear that she fall. The clone grabbed a towel and started whipping the foam off his ear, his neck, his chest...Ram surmised that he'd probably need to shower to get all the shaving cream from his hair and body. The woman was still laughing at him. The ARC hurled the towel at her, hitting Aasia squaring the cheek. She raised her arms in defense, but was still laughing.

"You still throw like a girl! Ha ha ha ha!"

"Yeah, yeah..." Ram walked over to the shower and turned on the spigot with a switch of a button, "I was trying to get ready to meet some people tonight. Thanks to you, I'm going to have wet hair when I see them."

"Who are you meeting?" The major inquired, her cackling quickly dying away.

"People."

"I don't want your cloak and dagger bit, Ram. Tell me." The elite clone glance back at Aasia now frowning expression. He turned back to the spraying water raining beside him, placing his fingers under his and adjust the shower temperature controls.

"I've got two men bed ridden and in need of major care. Their not dying, but you know what happens to clones who can't fight... ..."

Aasia knew full well what happened to comatose and severely disabled clone troopers and her face sank. They were cut off, no medical care, and let to die or be picked up by some under-fund charity group...or worst...Army Weapons Research Department for "testing" equipment. It seemed criminal, something that will hunt the Republic far into the future, it was the truth. There wasn't much one could do and it hurt Aasia, just like how it hurt that the war kept killing millions of innocents. But that was what war has become and they could do nothing but ride it out.

"It's a bad part of town where we're meeting..." Ram related, turning back to the female major, "I can't check my blaster from the quartermaster, so I'll need **it**. You still have **it**?"

"My footlocker...under my bed... ..."

Leaving the shower run, the ARC walked into the conjoining room and to the bed, kneeling at it's base. Reaching an arm under the mattress, Ram dragged a large plastroid box out until it's length, fully out from underneath. The elite pushed the box's lid up and started rummaging through the assortment of clothes, military kit, smaller containers. Finally he found the desired item and pulled it out of the footlocker, taking it over to the nearby table. The clone set the wooden box atop the table, flicking the locks up and lifting the lid. The smell of cut oak hit Ram's nostrils as the clone glanced over the contains of the box. A variety of weapon attaches and kit, along with cartons and cartons of ammunition, all positioned around a central piece: A Czerka Arms SPR100 Special. It was a double-barreled, break-action slugthrower rifle with a custom shorten barrels and sawed down stock. An overall length of just over 60 centimeters, it was hand held cannon. If that wasn't enough overkill, it sported an array of different slugs that ranged from blowing holes into tanks to marking organic targets with transponder beacons. The only problem the clone had was finding a big enough coat to conceal the weapon.

"Have you been messing with this?" Ram asked as he picked up the SPR Special, opening the breech and looking down the barrels.

"So, you want me to clean my razor and not your gun." The girl glared at the ARC, but with a smile on her lips, "When you left that with me...I really did thing you weren't coming back."

"Ha...I'm surprised you didn't sale it."

Satisfied with the gun, Ram closed the beech and replaced it in between attachments in the box. He walking up to Aasia, the clone glided his hand to the back of her neck and gave the major a little _kov'nyn_, a head-butt or Keldabe kiss. The two kept their foreheads together for a few spare seconds longer, eyes closed as they too in the moment. They separated and looked to each other, eyes locked as they touched one another's arms. Aasia would break the silence... ...

"You stink. Take a shower."

Ram smirked and slipped past her, to the refesher. The girl was stood, limp, in the conjoining room as she listen to sounds of raining water was interrupted and the shower door slid closed. Aasia had the sinking feeling she had before, when her clone ex had disappeared without a trace a month ago. Was he planning something like that again? Would he try to take those two bed ridden troopers with him? Was he going to leave Aasia behind and not even tell her...again... ...for good... ...

She didn't want to think about it.

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Flashing in a diversity of colored lights and holographic letters, the Uscru Entertainment Distict was a beam beacon that separated the fairer parts of Coruscant from the planet's vice filled Underworld. The Galaxies Opera House beamed in Uscru as an shining example of where crime empires ended and the cultural, Senate-loving Republic began on the capital world. That isn't to say that there wasn't any sin in the district and it was equally as dangerous as the lower levels of Nar Shaddaa. Slythmongers pushing drugs, gangsters bargaining deals, lonely man making not-so-legal arranges with alien and human females for some...recreation. The Uscru Distict was far from being pure.

There was hundreds of night clubs in Uscru, but only one was packed every night. The Breakdown, a dancing club and bar that brought in a crowd close to a thousand, mostly youths. Where the Outlander Club provided a gambler his games and buzzing drinks, Breakdown was all about the blasting Core Drive, Glimmik, and fast beat Leap-jump for young Coruscanti ears. The entire club's focus was on dancing. Giant dance floors that cast bright colored shapes and symbols across their surfaces where placed on different levels of the club. A central DJ was placed heart of the dance floors, sitting in a grand control-hub that projected performance lasers, gleaming colored lights, and dancing holo-characters. Hundreds twisted, bend, and hopped to the DJ's beat on every floor, decked out in wilded fashions that ranged to over the top to bordering public-nudity laws. Overhanging balconies offered sitting and tables, allowing dance-tried youths to relex, watch the massive crowds, and order watered down, over priced beverages to thirst club-goers.

Jos Vondar was overwhelmed by it all, sitting by one the overhangs as sipping a Sonic Servodriver from a tall glass. Alone at the several chaired table, Vondar had insisted that he had the sitting privately to himself. That wasn't a easy task in the Breakdown -a thousand people have to sit somewhere- but great thing about going to a place in the Uscru Distict was if you had enough credits you basically got whatever you wanted. Vondar wouldn't have normally mind the company, though. The man eyed a couple of Togruta girls that he **definitely** wouldn't mind sharing the table with. Unfortunately though, Vondar was on business meeting...as far backhanded deals could be called _business meetings_.

"Vondar" Someone touched the man's shoulder and he turned to meet them. Vondar grinned as he stood up to meet the mandalorian clone Ram, grasping the elite warrior's hand between his palms as he gave a good shake. The clone was out of his usual armor and in long khaki brown jacket that reached to his knees, with dark plain clothes underneath. A navy blue scarf was bunched around his neck, but what put Vondar off was his wet hair.

"What happened to you, Ram?" Vondar posed over the Glimmik music, "Meet a cute looking Mon Calamari along the way!"

"Your always the funny man, Vondar."

"So where's our dates?" The clone pointed across the table and up above the adjacent balcony. There, a long series of windows sectioned off another higher overhang that looked down on the rest of the club. Most, however, had their blinds closed.

"VIP" Ram replied, dropping his arm back to his side, "They wanted a look at us before we talked."

"Well that's a good idea..." A hint cynicism could be felt in Vondar's words, "Why didn't we have that good idea, again?"

"We're the ones who need there trust, so just stay frosty and come on." The mando clone lead the why and man followed loyally, Servodriver drink in hand.

"Oh, I'm frosty. I'm a ice berg. I'm a Rhen Var with a head and legs."

"... I really forgot how annoying you are... ..." Vondar almost didn't hear the elite's comment under the blasting music.

Ram and company soon reached a turbolift on the other balancy, one that lead up to VIPs above. A brown-furred wookiee blocked the lift entrance as she held bright colored drink in her paw. Vondar could tell that it was a female by the wookiee's body shape and smaller size...for the species, that is. That didn't stop the man from swallowing a lump down his throat as nerviously watched the looming wookiee roar something at Ram in that animal cry-type lanuage. The neon pink drink really did not look right in her giant hairy hands. The clone didn't seem in the slightest uneased, though, as he casually try to alight to meeting the people up in the VIP without outrightly saying it. The wookiee's noise seemed to sniff as she scowled at Ram, unwilling to budge.

"Look...We're here to make a deal." The elite clone saying it straight, poking the furry wall in the chest. Vondar was starting to get that **bad feeling** as he watched, agape, as Ram continued agitate the wookiee, "We trusted you this far, now I want some back."

"**Roooaaaaaaaaarrr**!" The mass of hair and muscle barked, Vondar swallowed another lump. Suddenly her head tilted to the side, as though listen to someone beside that didn't exist, and then the female wookiee stepped aside. The man was astonished and was so caught up in that moment that he almost didn't get into the turolift in time before the doors closed.

"By the Force, Ram!" Vondar exclaimed to clone as the lift rose, "I thought she was going to tear our heads off!"

"Wouldn't be the first time you met a girl who didn't like you."

"Yeah, but I don't think giving her a pearl necklace and buy her drink would better _her_ mood."

"Someone has a scanner up there and told the wookiee to take our blasters. They must have been listen because they then told her to let us pass."

"Hopefully they can scan to tell that I'm not caring anything deadly, other than my charm."

"Vondar, your charm is deadlier than a Star Destroyer. So can up there, well ya."

The turolift stopped and the doors slipped apart, revealing a long soft purple-walled room with dark leather couches. As the two entered, Vondar could see that all the couches were facing the blind covered window that looked out onto the club floors. They were empty. Against the corner of the room, a mini-bar was positioned, bending with the sharp angle with glasses and bottles placed behind it. A young man was stand, also, behind the mini-bar. He was definitely not club staff. It's long blond hair was gathering a ponytail at the back of his head, with a shortly trimed beard and a distant look in his eyes. The scowl on his lips meant business, though.

"Are you our esteemed host?" Vondar asked with a smirked, the clone beside him tapping his elbow into his side.

"No." The voice came seemingly out of nowhere. Vondar twisted his head around the room before caught site another person sitting in the conjoining corner. With graying hair and a polished tan bantha leather jacket, the man had remained one of no one in particular. He was a non-descript, nothing jumped out truly, and it seemed as though he had just random wondered into the VIP and sat down. The older man went on, "I'm the man with credits your looking for. So I'm left with question of _why_ you need hefty cash flow."

"I have a few friends in need of operation." Ram said carefully, take a few steps to the middle of the room. Vondar just realized that the older man was sitting on purpose in the corner he took up, having dragged one the mini-bar stools to the position. There, the man was totally invisible to the to anyone looking through the VIP's large window, hadn't it the blinds that covered it.

"I can only imagine an clone having fellow clones as friends." The older man folded his arms in front of him and gave the mando elite a cold stare.

"One would imagine... ..."

"So this here most be your medical advisor" The man nodded a glance to Vondar as he walked up beside Ram, "Jos Vondar. Formally a surgent of RMSU-Seven, resigned back to Corellia and got married to Tolk le Trene a former nurse. Your uncle is an Admiral and you were praised a hero at the Battle of Dronger for killing an enemy spy."

"Do you also have my blood-type?" Vondar retorted with a snicker.

"Type Oh Positive." The blond youth joined in.

"Well, let it also be on the record that I my favorite color is teal and that I voted for Garm Bel Iblis in the last election."

"Cute." The older man proclaimed dryly. Vondar could see the clone beside him clench his jaw in an effort not to sigh as his eyes rolled back for a moment, "But now I like to get to the specifics of little get to gather. You no doubtingly bring the technical specs for the job."

The older man rose up and made over to the mini-bar. Vondar cocked an eyebrow as he noted just how short the man was. He wasn't dwarf by any means, but he was at least half a head shorter than anyone in the room. The air around the older man still unease Vondar, projecting an atmosphere with his stride that told everyone that he meant business...in more ways than one. Walking behind the counter, the man reached down behind the bar.

"Can I care anyone for a drink?" He asked, "This VIP and the drinks my treat, so don't worry about going all out."

"We do have juice, too." The blond youth added, looking to Ram.

"No, I'm fine." The clone stepped up to a stool and plopped down at the mini-bar, Vondar moved to sit next to him. The elite reached into his coat and fiddle around in it with his, prompting the blond man to tense up and move his grip to his belt. Ram produced a small carton of cigarras, "Do you mind if I smoke?" The youth relaxed, but blinked at the clone as though he asked for permission to put the cigarra rolls up his noise.

"No, son... ... Go ahead." The older man frowned as he watched Ram pull out a lighter and flick a flame up, kindling a tabac roll between his lips. With a quick drag, the clone puffed out a cloud from the side his mouth and away from the others, a small consideration for the other three. Their elder host, though, continued to watch and frown as he ranged his hands running around a bottle he held. It was not disgust or anger, Vondar noted, but sadden disapproval, "There isn't a lot who take up that _unhealthy_ habit. It's odd that a GAR boy would pick it up."

"... ..." The elite stared back at the older man with that emotionless gaze Vondar was very familiar with. Ram never like it when people commented on his smoking.

"So, what exactly to you have back there?" Vondar asked with a grin, hoping to break the awkward silence that was settling between the two, "If you got some Sullustan gin, that would ease this pour soul."

"No, I don't think we do..." The blond youth related, kneeling down and looking thoroughly through the mini-bar. He seemed to had speedily catch on to Vondar's attempt to smooth out the mood, "Ah! Here. _Tihaar_...I've always liked this."

"Tih-ar?" The younger host place a translucent bottle with a syrupy toned, clear liquid inside onto the counter. It wasn't often that Vondar met a drink that he hadn't met previously, so his interest was picked, "Is it a good year?"

"Every year is a good year for _Tihaar_." The old man retorted with a smirk. The blond poured a glass half full of the Tih-whatever and slid it over. Picking it up and examine it once over, Vondar hesitated...before downing the whole glass. His thoat screamed with fire, and as the alcohol hit his stomach Vondar could his head start to spin.

"... Very smooth... ... Another?..." The two hosts both laughed, the blond more a sympathetic snicker as the elder man barked at Vondar's raspy voice and watering eyes.

"_Tihaar_. Mandalorian liquor." Ram alighted as he blow a trail of smoke from his mouth, "Some say it has all the characteristics of Mandos. I'll never touch the stuff myself, though."

"It's slashes and burns at you!" Related their very amused elder host, "Plus it knows you out in a instant. That's definitely a _Mando'ad_! I only use it to get to sleep."

The blond smirked at Vondar and refilled his glass, then poured one from himself. The clone reaffirmed his statement when he was offered the spirit, waving his and taking another long drag on his cigarra. Vondar resolved himself to carefully nurse the Tih-drink as he revealed a datapad from his person and dropped it on the bar. A hologram jumped up from the pad, forming a blue image with a roundish shape and a wrinkled surface. A human brain... ...

"From what Ram was able to send to me, the damage on the two is focused around here" Vondar pointed to an area on the holo right above the brain stem. Drink in grasp, he positioned his hands either side of the indicated location, "in the cerbral and primary motor cortexes. To put it simply, the two clones can think and...dream but can't wake up. One of them, I'm told, isn't breathing on his own."

"Downs... ..." Ram whispered aloud, rubbing his forehead into his wrist as he held his tabac roll aloft. The older man watched him.

"Well even that won't be a problem...if this idea of mine works."

"I was under the impression that an injury like that was untreatable." Vondar looked at the blond youth, starting to get frustrated with all the interruptions.

"Well, I say it **isn't**. With right surgeon, equipment, and a deep pocketed sponsor, we can save these boys."

"By _equipment_, you mean standard cybernetics, right?"

"And by _standard_, you mean **legal** cybernetics...yes." The medical expert took a sip from his Tib-yeah and went on, "Standard for clones...no..."

"As odd as that may sound, I do have people who keep up on the medical sources." The elder host related, leaning a little to Vondar, "I've never heard of this before."

"I would say that the procedure is rather new, considering I just invented it." Vondar answered as honest and serious as he could. The last thing he wanted was to come off as con-man pulling one over on a mark, "The Borg Construct Aj-Six was originally designed to translate and sort out the communications between a computer mainframe and the brain. I want to use it to _reconnect_ the areas of the clones' brains that their injuries cut off." The medical expert tapped a few controls on his datapad and the basic out line of a humaniod's head appeared around the holo brain. Then a horseshoe shaped device fading into place around the head covering most the back and the ears the humaniod, "The Aj-Six is already designed to link with human neural networks in the brain. It's just matter of retooling it for basic inter-networking, if you will."

"From what I know, this technology has been here for a while" The younger host started, "Why hasn't an similar procedure been tried before?"

"Well, really it comes down to mapping out bare minimum of neural connections needed to reroute processing paths. If one had a subject's full-mind scan, pre-injury, it would be rather simple turn that into workable information."

"But not every gets a full-mind scan, do they..." The older man retorted.

"Right, so the next logical place to start mapping is the next-of-kin, direct family members of the victim."

"Or their clone." Vondar smile and nodded. Their elder host seemed have a limit knowledge in the medical field, but was extreme intelligent and wasn't at all hampered with the amount of information to get a firm grip on the overall concept. Though, that tid-bit did not at all clarify the man's profession.

"There's a catch." The two hosts looked to Ram and then to Vondar, each an eyebrow cocked in similar inquisition. Glancing to the elite clone for a nod to continue, Vondar took big burn sip from the Tih-drink... ...

"Fifty-Fifty survivability... ..."

"Fifty-Fifty? As in one will live and one will die?" Vondar took another long sip from his glass.

"I"m saying one might live, both might live, or both might die..." Silence washed over the room as all of them let the realize of what was being said sink in. This procedure was more than just risky, it was liturally life-threatening. Vondar had the best appreciation of them all. No one had every tried it, save the spar animal experimentation, and those had been sketch in themselves.

"We all know their died if we do nothing." Ram, breaking the spell of silence, slowly blow another cloud from his lungs, "Clones don't get to live in beds for the rest there lifes, despite how short. If they can't fight, they get made up on the cheap to be able to fight. If they can't then...well way waste tax-payers money... ..."

"It's not right." The blond youth said abruptly, restraining his voice as best he could, "How could the Jedi Order allow things like this happen. And their the ones leading the Army!"

"I don't care about politics. I'm here to get my man fixed so they can stay alive!" The elder host raised his hands up to stop the elite's yelling... ...

"Now calm down, son. We're here to save your boys, too."

"Stop calling me 'son', old man." Ram spat in low growl, "I had a father once, I'm not looking for a new one..."

The comment surprised the elder host and the shock was plain on the his face. The elite clone paid him no mind, puffing away on his cigarra and not taking the tact to blow the smoke way from their hosts, bluntly letting it fly into their nostrils. Vondar swallowed another stinging sip of his drink and silently wished that Ram shut up before he crashed their party and got them kicked out. For the boys in the infirmary, at least, Ram... ...

"Let me tell you something I'm sure your thinking" Damnit! You stubborn clone bastard! The elite went on, "I know that you've been keeping your little private army on me, and I don't just mean Three-Twelve or what his name really is."

"I wondered if someone like yourself would notice being tailed" The old man actually smiled, so Vondar relaxed, "but my boys must be slipping if you figured out that it was them."

"Actually, if I hadn't known that someone was tracking my movements, I would never have caught on that I had one of yours on me. When I saw no trace of anyone checking in on my records, knew it was your boys. Only Null ARCs are that through and masterful slicers."

"I had Jaing on you. Better knowc to you as _Three-Twelve_. He's more of artist with slicing than a hacker."

"Well, tell him to use a different cover of when a transfers out of a unit in the next opt. Fett was teaching us that one when _I_ was still in the army."

"Ok, wait!" Vondar mind swiled. The two had lost him several comments ago. He looked to Ram and pointed a thumb to their elder host, "Are you say that he's black ops! Unless the Senate's giving special forces soldiers pay checks with a whole lot more zeros on the end, I think we might be barking up the wrong tree."

"Son, if your fretting over the expenses, you've got nothing to worry about." The old man and his younger comrade smirked and snickered at some private joke. Ram even turned a sly smile.

"Vondar, meet Kal Skirata." Ram said, presenting his hand towards their gray haired host.

"Stars above... _the_ Kal Skirata?"

"You've heard of me?" Skirata cocked an eyebrow at Vondar.

"I was a field surgent and treated my occasional Republic Commando. The way they talked, I thought you were some kind of myth!"

"Yes, I've gotten that reaction before." The old man laughed, but suddenly after his features became serious and thoughtful, "I guess it's fair to tell you now that I'm not truly doing this for your men, _Ramikadu_." Skirata pronounced Ram's full Mandalorian name with ease. Not too surprising from the legendary Mandie drill sergeant.

"Please." The blond youth popped in, "It's not that we don't care about the two in intensive care. We just can't ignore the chance to get some information on the people your working for."

"Other than Palpatine." Skirata added.

"*Sigh*... ...there's a lot I do and don't know..." The elite snuffed out his rolling into a dish on the bar counter, "What did your want to know?"

"Everything you know, _Ramikadu_" Skirata picked up the bottle of Mandalorian liquar and poured Vondar's glass full of the amber alcohol. The medical expert surmised that they were going to be here for a while. Ram watched their elder host with a thoughtful gaze and the two exchanged a long stare. Finally, the clone spoke... ...

"They call themselves the **Hands**... ..."


End file.
